Londoners Magazine

I pity emos.

Raveheads, shaveheads, dopeheads. Pretty much anyone who defines their life, and the way they live it, by putting a word before their head. Why is it that people who long to be different revel in their own concentricity?

I’m all for a person prescribing to a way of life if it makes them feel a part of something. It’s when they start turning their noses up at anything that doesn’t come togged in neon pink tights, a glow stick
and an “Atlantis to Interzone” tee-shirt that I get iffy.

With identical flicks of the mascara brush, hair off the scalp and hash-leaf hoodies they defeat the whole point in not conforming. While it is honorable to want to make an aesthetic difference, how different can you really be if you can be stuck in a social box by no more than a passing glance?

It’s a sad state of any persons affairs when the fact you are gay, jewish, black, etc, is all you have to say for yourself. It’s wonderful that you’re here and your queer but, quite frankly, I’m tired of hearing
this side of the record. Is there a b-side to your life?

Does your river run any deeper than the color of your skin, the name of your god or your choice in sexual partner? It’s a combination of all these things, and more, that make a person whole.

Hiding behind one just makes you dull, and makes other people apathetic to your cause.