When I was in high school, I ventured into several different cliques due to my overwhelming and insatiable curiosity of people. Over half way through school, and my fascination came to be with Goths. It started out hanging with a girl that was already “in”. She started inviting me, and a friend I hung out with, to do things with her. After awhile, I was invited more frequently. My old friend didn’t want to come, so I went on alone. This eventually created a rift with my old friend that grew with time, but my new friend was just too intoxicating for me to stop seeing. It was never a loyalty issue with me, but rather sheer curiosity of people and how they were in life.
After awhile, this new friend started inviting me out with the rest of her Goth group. I was never like them although I tried my hardest. It was rather pathetic though. I was overweight, had long hair down to my waist that was blonde. They actually called me “hair” or hippie. I wouldn’t have minded this except I was trying so hard to be like them. This constant teasing was a painful reminder at how awful I was at being Goth. I would never have that appeal no matter how hard I tried. I was teased by them, called horrible names by them. They told me what I could and couldn’t buy, I learned the hard way I wasn’t allowed to like any band any of them had already picked out as their band, and it was the worst faux paux to buy anything associated with their band. I didn’t understand any of this. They made fun of the docs (Dr. Martens) I bought saying that my mommy bought them for me. And when my friend and I had played a prank on them, they just got a little mad at her whereas they were yelling “whore” at me, loud enough for everyone to hear at school. Nothing in the prank called for that name calling, but they did it anyway. It was clear, looking back, that none of them ever liked me. I was weird, tried too hard, was a wannabe, and didn’t have the social skills to understand how to properly navigate such an emotionally explosive group. Not that I slept with any of them, but they tried, and passed me around, but I was none-the-wiser. Eventually I was kicked out of the group. They all turned their backs on me, even the friend that had reached out to me. She never stood up for me even when they were calling me a whore.
Looking back on this, I could see why they were so traumatized by my presence. I AM weirder than they ever were. Somewhere later in my life someone had said they were all like that because they were the wannabes. I was just naturally weird or unique, whereas they had to work at it. I don’t know if that is really true, or the person was trying to make me feel better, but I definitely don’t fit in. I have always been the outsider everywhere I go, and to every group I’ve been in or experienced in some way. I just never knew how to let my uniqueness shine in a positive way. I never knew or understood what was so different about me, or why that might be special, to me, in some way. I have always only been able to see it from that painful perspective of being ousted from people I truly liked or cared about. Either by their bad behavior, or by literally being exiled.
One thing unique about my life is the irony of my trying to be Goth. I was the weirdest one of them all, I am sure. They were just all average kids trying to cope with life and using that as an outlet. Most of them have moved on from that phase and you would never guess they were ever goth. They still might have a unique style, but they are not weird or an outcast by any means of the word, which was the point of that group in high school. I am and have always been strange, weird or an outcast in some way. Its just funny to me to remember how hard I tried to do something I was already natural at. Like trying extra hard to be a woman, or trying extra hard to be human. It doesn’t even make sense. How can you be, any harder, what you already are?