When I began this blog, I didn't know what to put on it at all. I wanted to start a blog that followed the darker aesthetic of fashion without sounding corny or put on, but I wasn't exactly sure how I fit into that. I'm one of those people who feel out of place if they so much as mention fashion or anything so frivolous in a group of friends, so I decided to talk about it anonymously :) I just want to say that if anyone manages to find my blog, and follow it (gracious forbid) and they find it boring, please don't hesitate to post comments and critiques. Alright, without further ado:
Lately, I've been accessing labels. O, what wonderful comforting things labels are. Usually, they prevent you from having to think too hard. If you mix them up with subcultures, though, they become a tool that you think with.
A few years ago, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing black. I wouldn't wear tight clothes and I dressed almost entirely in flowered and mismatching patterns. (Shudder.) I think I was trying to show my separation from the other people I knew, but in a different kind of rebellion. I was trying to eschew labels and at the same time hide what made me comfortable by obscuring it with brightness :) Now that I'm slightly older, though, I think I understand myself better. It's perfectly fine to fit in. It's absolutely normal to be like everyone else, as long as you understand that really---you're not. You have your own identity, and once I became comfortable with mine, I became comfortable about dressing how I wanted to.
People are silly, though. They fly at you like cats sometimes. But you just have to learn to ignore them.
Alright, now that we've got all that over with.... It's very hard to be a teenager. Teenagers know this. Adults know this. Teachers, professors, morticians, hairdressers, dealers, nurses, business people and librarians all know this.
What's even harder is to be the slightest bit different as a teenager. I'm a bisexual, vegetarian, from-california-moved-to-england, cult-raised, agnostic goth kid. I'm also 15. So I suppose I know how that feels---although as one of those blessed with a thick skin, I suppose it can get a lot worse.
Now what this is NOT going to be is a love letter to despair, or anything like that. Because I do not despair. I'm extremely happy, actually. Ask anyone who knows me.
ANYWAYS, at the risk of sounding trivial and extremely girlish, I'm going to end this post and start another, where I can talk all about clothes. I may even post links :)
