OfficialLilPurple

Emo. We've heard this term for years. I don't exactly remember when it actually started, but I didn't personally hear of it until my sophomore year. All we had was punk and gothic, but now gothic and emo are completely confused with each other. And now I'm ashamed whenever people accuse ME of being emo because they don't know the difference. Not even Southpark knows the difference. The problem is, emo is associated with "emotion," but a depressed emotion at that. When people think of emo, they think swoopy haircut colored black, black clothing with occasional stripes, plaid, checkers, etc., hate for the sunlight, hating EVERYTHING, and writi

"So emo is what you call yourself?"               "Yeah. Why...?" "Do you cut yourself"                "Hell no!!" "What do you think of people who self-injure?"            "Their gross! And sick! And idiots who want freaking attention!" "How do you know?"                    "Cuz I'm emo." "Are you sad?"       

"I want to met her!" Andy protested. "No. I really don't want to." "Please?" Andy, your boyfriend of almost a year, wanted to meet your mother. "Um. Uhhh" you raked a hand through your hair. "Fine. I'm driving" you grab your coat, and keys, hopping on your motorcycle. Andy gets on, holding onto you. You drive for 10 minutes, pulling into a cemetery parking lot. You take off your helmet, looking at him, excepting him to freak out. Instead , be tucks his helmet under his arm, taking your hand. You walk soberly to her gravestone, sitting down. "Mom? Remember Andy? I brought him" you say softly, taking a glass bead out of your pocket, placing