I'm Not Emo
May 30, 2012 15:02:18 GMT -7
Post by Zeth Zatachi on May 30, 2012 15:02:18 GMT -7
www.wattpad.com/4878054-i%27m-not-emo
I’m not emo. No matter how much you call me emo, I have clean wrists. What’s to gain from this? I don’t know. You’re clearly just a bully, but let me tell you how this has affected me and changed my life. I’ll start at the beginning and show you the end you created.
My name is Zak Evans Avery; I’m sixteen in the tenth grade. I was born and raised in East Hampton, Connecticut, oh what a wonderful place. Just starting off life I had no father and my mother was away a lot, I don’t know why. If I’m correct, I do believe my grandma raised me for the most part until cancer took her away. Sounds like life was pretty bad from the start? Not really, I was young and can’t remember such things. People say it must be hard growing up with a father and without a mother around, but it’s not, it’s quite easy actually. I assume you just adjust to the household situations you are put in?
Of course not big happens until elementary school, that’s where all the fun in life beings. Waking up in the morning excited to see friends. Riding the boss, throwing paper balls at everyone. Dreading homework, that I’d say my dog ate even though I’ve never had a dog in my life. Playing on the playground after naptime, oh the ecstasy of young school life. I didn’t really have much of that. Early off kids noticed I wasn’t like everyone else; I was extremely skinny and way too pale for my midnight black hair. I was called almost every single little insult we knew back in those days, including the forever famous ‘loser’ insult while making an ‘L’ on your forehead.
Late elementary, you know around fifth grade, is when real bullying came into play. I couldn’t afford the name brand clothes due to my mother being away so much and making so little, the black off-brand looked better than that stripped polo to be honest. So came the name of “goth”, but I could deal with that it wasn’t much of an insult anyways. Of course don’t think it was all just the whole elementary calling me goth and loser, I had friends. They were strange kids, the ones that never had girlfriends or went to sleepovers.
Next came the wonders of middle school, where all the elementary kids were advanced into one building. Yay more friends! No. This was the start of massive bullying. I was pushed around and got gut shots in the bathrooms. Picked on daily for my dark clothing. You know in middle school is when clicks start forming? Yea I didn’t fit into any of them but the jocks really liked to talk to me.
So the bullying was pretty moderate during early middle school, during late middle school, the last year of it to be exact, came the existence of a new insult. I’m not sure where it came from or who made it, but it was spelled E-M-O and stood for almost anyone in dark clothing and different than most others. This word for some reason became very painful, why? I’m not sure… maybe it was the way people said it? It would be said with such hatred it made my stomach turn and my eyes burn.
Here is my favorite part. Freshman year! Oh yes! We finally made it to the last school in our forced education! There was so much freedom and options, it was great. Thought elementary was the ecstasy of young life? Try high school. There are so many clubs, friends, and vibrant clear signs of young love in the air. It’s wonderful! If you’re not an ‘emo’. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an emo as I stated before. “You are what everyone sees you to be.” Said someone, most likely. It was during the summer before that the definition of ‘emo’ actually came out. Here let me write it for you, straight from Webster.
Emo – noun – \ˈē-(ˌ)mō\ - a style of rock music influenced by punk rock and featuring introspective and emotionally fraught lyrics – Short for ‘emotional. – Webster Dictionary
Now tell me, how people took that and turn it into this;
Emo - noun - \ˈē-(ˌ)mō\ - black wearing, wrist cutting, no good trash, depressed life haters who deserve to be buried in a hole. – Some preppy girl at my high school
Maybe I’m just stupid for thinking Webster has the correct definition and this girl doesn’t? But come on! I don’t cut my wrists, not all my clothes is black, certainly I’m not trash, and I’m only depressed with my life because of people like her. No human being is trash and no human being deserves to be treated in any foul way.
I’ve tried to create my own definition for emo. I guess I thought of it as a way to cheer myself up? It’s Extremely Modern Optimists aka EMO. Gives you a whole new outlook on the word right?? Yet still even with that when people gave me that look and said it with such disgust, my stomach still turned and my eyes still burned. Freshman year was just a bunch of insults and slightly aggressive bullying. Can you even begin to guess my sophomore year?
Well let me have a swing at it for you! Halfway through the year my mother told me she wouldn’t have long left with me. Apparently all that time she spent away from home was spent on the streets trying to acquire drugs to feed her addiction. She bought from an undercover. Currently she is on trial, she has appealed twice and for some reason the judge allows it. Maybe she got on her knees and begged?
My mother wasn’t even the worse part of the year. I finally got a dog; it was a stray I found on the streets. I named him Courage, because he seemed to have lived to a moderate age on the streets. He was a great dog, for a few weeks until he died of worms.
There is a curtain jock at my school, named Austin, he is a big guy of course and he has a mean streak that goes on for miles. He picked on me a lot during the year; even hit me around a few times for ‘upsetting him with my depressed mood’. Four nights ago was the last day of school, and for underclassmen that means The End of The Year Dance. One of my male friends I’ve had since middle school asked me to go so he didn’t have to sit around alone, his mom had made him go because he wasn’t social enough in her eyes. Austin got to speak during the dance… basically he got everyone’s attention and then asked if anyone wanted to dance with my emo ass, of course no one responded except with laughter. Yea it seems like a weak joke, but it really hit me that everyone thought I was emo and no one would ever want to dance with me.
So here I am sitting in my room writing this… note. I honestly don’t want to take this pain anymore, I can’t stand it. I wish people could see and feel what their bullying does to people and what it leads people to doing. Well... this is the end of my note I guess, I’m moving on, Goodbye.
Evidence Piece #002
I’m not emo. No matter how much you call me emo, I have clean wrists. What’s to gain from this? I don’t know. You’re clearly just a bully, but let me tell you how this has affected me and changed my life. I’ll start at the beginning and show you the end you created.
My name is Zak Evans Avery; I’m sixteen in the tenth grade. I was born and raised in East Hampton, Connecticut, oh what a wonderful place. Just starting off life I had no father and my mother was away a lot, I don’t know why. If I’m correct, I do believe my grandma raised me for the most part until cancer took her away. Sounds like life was pretty bad from the start? Not really, I was young and can’t remember such things. People say it must be hard growing up with a father and without a mother around, but it’s not, it’s quite easy actually. I assume you just adjust to the household situations you are put in?
Of course not big happens until elementary school, that’s where all the fun in life beings. Waking up in the morning excited to see friends. Riding the boss, throwing paper balls at everyone. Dreading homework, that I’d say my dog ate even though I’ve never had a dog in my life. Playing on the playground after naptime, oh the ecstasy of young school life. I didn’t really have much of that. Early off kids noticed I wasn’t like everyone else; I was extremely skinny and way too pale for my midnight black hair. I was called almost every single little insult we knew back in those days, including the forever famous ‘loser’ insult while making an ‘L’ on your forehead.
Late elementary, you know around fifth grade, is when real bullying came into play. I couldn’t afford the name brand clothes due to my mother being away so much and making so little, the black off-brand looked better than that stripped polo to be honest. So came the name of “goth”, but I could deal with that it wasn’t much of an insult anyways. Of course don’t think it was all just the whole elementary calling me goth and loser, I had friends. They were strange kids, the ones that never had girlfriends or went to sleepovers.
Next came the wonders of middle school, where all the elementary kids were advanced into one building. Yay more friends! No. This was the start of massive bullying. I was pushed around and got gut shots in the bathrooms. Picked on daily for my dark clothing. You know in middle school is when clicks start forming? Yea I didn’t fit into any of them but the jocks really liked to talk to me.
So the bullying was pretty moderate during early middle school, during late middle school, the last year of it to be exact, came the existence of a new insult. I’m not sure where it came from or who made it, but it was spelled E-M-O and stood for almost anyone in dark clothing and different than most others. This word for some reason became very painful, why? I’m not sure… maybe it was the way people said it? It would be said with such hatred it made my stomach turn and my eyes burn.
Here is my favorite part. Freshman year! Oh yes! We finally made it to the last school in our forced education! There was so much freedom and options, it was great. Thought elementary was the ecstasy of young life? Try high school. There are so many clubs, friends, and vibrant clear signs of young love in the air. It’s wonderful! If you’re not an ‘emo’. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an emo as I stated before. “You are what everyone sees you to be.” Said someone, most likely. It was during the summer before that the definition of ‘emo’ actually came out. Here let me write it for you, straight from Webster.
Emo – noun – \ˈē-(ˌ)mō\ - a style of rock music influenced by punk rock and featuring introspective and emotionally fraught lyrics – Short for ‘emotional. – Webster Dictionary
Now tell me, how people took that and turn it into this;
Emo - noun - \ˈē-(ˌ)mō\ - black wearing, wrist cutting, no good trash, depressed life haters who deserve to be buried in a hole. – Some preppy girl at my high school
Maybe I’m just stupid for thinking Webster has the correct definition and this girl doesn’t? But come on! I don’t cut my wrists, not all my clothes is black, certainly I’m not trash, and I’m only depressed with my life because of people like her. No human being is trash and no human being deserves to be treated in any foul way.
I’ve tried to create my own definition for emo. I guess I thought of it as a way to cheer myself up? It’s Extremely Modern Optimists aka EMO. Gives you a whole new outlook on the word right?? Yet still even with that when people gave me that look and said it with such disgust, my stomach still turned and my eyes still burned. Freshman year was just a bunch of insults and slightly aggressive bullying. Can you even begin to guess my sophomore year?
Well let me have a swing at it for you! Halfway through the year my mother told me she wouldn’t have long left with me. Apparently all that time she spent away from home was spent on the streets trying to acquire drugs to feed her addiction. She bought from an undercover. Currently she is on trial, she has appealed twice and for some reason the judge allows it. Maybe she got on her knees and begged?
My mother wasn’t even the worse part of the year. I finally got a dog; it was a stray I found on the streets. I named him Courage, because he seemed to have lived to a moderate age on the streets. He was a great dog, for a few weeks until he died of worms.
There is a curtain jock at my school, named Austin, he is a big guy of course and he has a mean streak that goes on for miles. He picked on me a lot during the year; even hit me around a few times for ‘upsetting him with my depressed mood’. Four nights ago was the last day of school, and for underclassmen that means The End of The Year Dance. One of my male friends I’ve had since middle school asked me to go so he didn’t have to sit around alone, his mom had made him go because he wasn’t social enough in her eyes. Austin got to speak during the dance… basically he got everyone’s attention and then asked if anyone wanted to dance with my emo ass, of course no one responded except with laughter. Yea it seems like a weak joke, but it really hit me that everyone thought I was emo and no one would ever want to dance with me.
So here I am sitting in my room writing this… note. I honestly don’t want to take this pain anymore, I can’t stand it. I wish people could see and feel what their bullying does to people and what it leads people to doing. Well... this is the end of my note I guess, I’m moving on, Goodbye.
Evidence Piece #002
