This is what Charlotte writes.

09.21.07

Boys who wear eyeshadow and pants that fit are emo. That’s just the way it is. It doesn’t matter anything about their personality. It doesn’t matter that they don’t listen to the genre of music from which the term is derived. It doesn’t matter that they are, in fact, blisteringly happy most of the time. No, they must be emo. Emo emo emo emo emo.

It’s weird…you wear eyeshadow one Halloween to dress up like a vampire and love it so much that hardly a day goes by when your eyelids aren’t coated with the thick black, and first people tell you that you look like a girl, and then they tell you that you’re emo. A girl emo? Does it count if a girl emo’s wearing girl pants? Are any pants that aren’t the size of a house automatically girl pants? Jeez.

You can’t be just who you are anymore. It’s no longer enough to just be BK. Hell, you can’t even just be rock ‘n’ roll anymore. Scheiße, you have to be divided and shut away into some sub-genre that doesn’t fit but no one can look at you if they can’t name you so you’re stuck there.

The worst part is the fact that they take this mislabelling and rely soley upon it to know who you are. No more “Hello, my name is,” nein, it’s just look you up and down and now I know you cut yourself and think that life is so unfair and that Pete Wentz is a god and that your screenname has so many xes that you can’t tell if there’s an actual word in there. Because that’s what all emos do. And you are one.

You can stand side by side with your twin…identical on a genetical level and in nearly every other way, but that doesn’t matter, because he’s got blonde dreadlocks, clothes that are so loose that you can’t tell that there’s a body there and don’t come near me with that eyeliner so he must be something else. A different species. Girly emo and tough hip hopper, same blood, same heart, same all. Strip it all away and you can’t tell the difference, but all that really matters doesn’t matter in reality.

Note: Yes I did have Kaulitz on the mind.