On My Being Goth:
I have been asked about being goth and I’m having a hard time explaining my gothness. For me it is about my feelings about what I am and my perception of my surroundings. I don’t need the clothing and makeup to be who I am. Not that I don’t love to dress up, because I do.
I miss my piercings. They all closed when my body over reacted to the chemo. I haven’t gotten them again yet. Mostly because of all the after care. It reminds me of the surgeries and treatments. The questions here is, ‘If you are goth why did you bother do something to stop the cancer from taking your life? Don’t you people want to die?’ Well, I really did have to think that one through before having treatments. And it came down to my family begged me to and that I wasn’t done doing a few things around here. I may be middle aged but I still have goals and desires. And thought death fascinates me, I could wait a bit longer before taking that particular plunge.
I look at a colorful world and see it in black and white. Not that I’m color blind, because I’m not. I see colors just fine. But I also see beyond them. The nuances of light and shadow. I see beauty in the broken, twisted, or maimed. I love the silhouette of plants in the winter. My twisted honeysuckle or spiky trumpet vine, dark against the gray winter sky holds so much more poetry then when in bloom.
One of my life’s credo’s is ‘When in doubt, Go for the shock value.’ Along with ‘Anything is possible, It’s the probability factor that gets in your way.‘ This of course mortifies and exasperates my mother, even now. She still tells me not to say or do things that embarrass her. Not for herself, she wants me to fit in. But I just can’t. I’ve tried. I don’t fit. Well not anywhere in the ‘normal‘ world.
For me being goth is part of my soul. And how do ‘you’ explain that to anyone else. Goth is just a part of me. A special part, but not all that I am. And for me that is a happy place. (Note the lack of smiley face here. But I‘d take a black rose.)