Gothic Misunderstood reject society conformity

Child Of Goth


While on the train, I spotted a rather unusual sight. Crossing past the doors was this girl of goth - cloaked in darkness and listening to loud and raw music . Immediately, eyes of cynicism and judgement passed over her young body, quietly criticising her dressing style: ripped jeans, fishnet sleeves and the spiked collar that encircled her neck. Quickly, grimaces formed on their faces - clearly disapproving of her very presence. A cough of discomfort encapsulated the atmosphere in the this tight and oppressive space.


The tremulous and almost euphoric music drifted in the packed cabin. The intrinsic rhythm was hard and steady- mindnumbing and entrancing. I was fascinated by her- from the long and black fingernails which she used to turn the volume up on her Ipod to the splashes of red paint over the cuffs of her black jeans. She was the equivalent of a fallen deity, stepping foot into the realm of ignorant mortals. A misunderstood being.


My sentiments were hardly shared as a group of teenage girls started chatting nosily and giggling, blatantly pointing filed and garish fingernails at the Goth. I picked out obscene words such as 'Freak' and 'weirdo' from the teenagers- as did the Goth. She directed a pointed look at the group- her large and penetrating eyes quickly subdued the childish mules. My fascination deepened and reached its peak.


My wish was answered as her long lashes swept across the crowd- taking in all their critique. Finally, her gaze stopped on me - for a brief second she lingered. If I had blinked, I would have missed it. As I held her forthcoming stare - I marvelled at the honesty in her eyes. No pretense or vanity clouded them. Underneath were traces of pain but her suffering was her pillar of strength. 


Perhaps it was the Mohawk. It accentuated her desire to rebel and her hatred of conformity. She was taking her stand. But. Before I could offer my support, the doors opened and like the wind she drifted and vanished. The air was less tense but certainly empty. I gave a deflated sigh- saddened by the idle and meaningless conversations reaching my ears. All I desired was another moment with her - that Child Of Goth. Who defied the unspoken and flimsy social norms.

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