The movement people call “emo” today slightly evolved from “grunge” about a decade and a half ago. Regardless, I was part of this “grunge” culture and wore the flannel shirts, ripped jeans, had the messy, dishelved long hair, and felt the torture of my mere existence. (There was a hint of sarcasm in that last phrase.) I roll my eyes at how much of a drama queen I was back then (10 times more so!) but my emotions as a teen were very painful and very real. Since I can’t provide a coherent, well-thought out post today, I decided to peel back a little bit of my vulnerability and share a bit of “angsty” poetry written on June 1, 1999. If you can get past the crappiness of it, you can get the sense I was feeling rather lonely.
I looked out the window, waiting
Even though love never called me,
I sat there, anticipating
Even though love was never a guest in my home,
I sat there
Waiting for love,