Post by Raven Rose on Jan 3, 2006 6:40:46 GMT -5
This I got from a lifeyournal from "queenb", i think it's really beautyful and it somehow reflects me and has given me a lot to think about...
To be punk is to be fifteen staring at the mirror that first time hacking off your own hair:a cultural icon of madness, yet you know you are not crazy, just bored somehow; weary of thinking about how bad it all is and tired of not talking about it; you know that the world around you would like it better if you would just smile instead be cheerful be grateful but no, you, you are selfish, you understand this, you cannot will not behave like it's okay and you know this makes you ugly so you might as well cut your hair, the world better get used to you ugly, you ain't going nowhere anytime soon
and you used to hate the dark but now you don't like anything and at least at night you are free from the sound of forced laughter; those loud bright colors are muted; there's less to remind you of happiness and you crave stimulation so you reach for books in which the characters only smile sardonically; you listen to music with simple direct angry lyrics; you cut the frills off your clothes and dye them black, hoping, maybe, to take a piece of the night with you into the long day to come.
And you can't help it, you just don't like anything in the day, everything is an irritation that makes you fidget: all the stiff styled people make you tug at your hair and cute songs sung by cartoon villians make your jaws clench and airbrushed magazine covers make you bite your lips until they bleed and the reason your fists are balled is because you can't stand it, you don't understand how anyone can stand it and then you remember oh yeah i'm different
ps: I've asked for the persmission to post it on here so don't start bothering me
To be punk is to be fifteen staring at the mirror that first time hacking off your own hair:a cultural icon of madness, yet you know you are not crazy, just bored somehow; weary of thinking about how bad it all is and tired of not talking about it; you know that the world around you would like it better if you would just smile instead be cheerful be grateful but no, you, you are selfish, you understand this, you cannot will not behave like it's okay and you know this makes you ugly so you might as well cut your hair, the world better get used to you ugly, you ain't going nowhere anytime soon
and you used to hate the dark but now you don't like anything and at least at night you are free from the sound of forced laughter; those loud bright colors are muted; there's less to remind you of happiness and you crave stimulation so you reach for books in which the characters only smile sardonically; you listen to music with simple direct angry lyrics; you cut the frills off your clothes and dye them black, hoping, maybe, to take a piece of the night with you into the long day to come.
And you can't help it, you just don't like anything in the day, everything is an irritation that makes you fidget: all the stiff styled people make you tug at your hair and cute songs sung by cartoon villians make your jaws clench and airbrushed magazine covers make you bite your lips until they bleed and the reason your fists are balled is because you can't stand it, you don't understand how anyone can stand it and then you remember oh yeah i'm different
ps: I've asked for the persmission to post it on here so don't start bothering me
