My entire life, I've assigned meaning to the seemingly "meaningless." Everything has a place. Everything has a purpose. Everything matters. It always felt important to me to assign meaning because I knew what that felt like.

I was fully in my burned-cd-Good-Charlotte-scrapbook-studded-belts-emo-haircuts era and no one could stop me. I dressed in as much black as I could– stripes and studs, spikey earrings from Claires– you know the ones. If anyone asked, I’d say in the most deadpan and serious tone, “I’m PUNK. I’m GOTH.” and vanish like a bat in the night with melodrama and flair. 

They also don’t tell you that even though you may have the perfect playlists and the most perfectly worn Doc Martens and drug store eyeliner, the becoming in the coming of age isn’t just a film reel montage.