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People always ask me, "Why are you goth? Why did you become goth?" But that's not the right question to ask. It's been in me all along. some people even blame my depression on my love for goth culture.
Fucker, tell that to five year old me having a panic attack in the kindergarten classroom and getting yelled at for it. Or to depressed thirteen year old me, complete with brown-blonde hair, awkward chubbiness, and ugly bangs. What I'm trying to say in my own dumb cunt way is that I am who I am.
Can you really imagine me any other way? I'm not here to please you. If you don't like the way I am, move on with your life, and go get fingered by Edward Scissorhands for all I care. And don't date me to "fix" me. That's happened to me an infuriatingly large number of times.
I like my music and my clothes. I like my angsty poetry and my mud-stained combat boots and my black hair dye. I can like what I fucking like, thank you very much sir. I can have my idols and my beliefs and my crushes. You can have your "normal" music and clothes and poetry and your pretty high heels and blonde hair. You can have your idols and your beliefs and crushes. But I'm keeping mine. Nobody's been able to change my mind yet, so don't think you're any different, honey. Because normal is a setting on a dryer. Who wants to be that?
xx
~ Mrs Manson
Most Helpful Girl