Looking back at my adolescent years, I remember one thing, something that has affected my whole standard of thinking, the black t-shirt. Wearing such a subjectable color can be looked upon in many ways, whether it be the stereotypical Goth kid or the rebel, seeking attention, I don’t care because I am neither of those things. I am possibly the most compassionate person you will ever meet because of the black t-shirt.
The gift of the black t-shirt came to me in the 6th grade. I saw people in elaborate clothing, all black. I was fascinated by it. So then I decided to partake in this beautiful fashion and I accepted it. But living in a small town, it was shamed upon. I was called many names and even looked at as a “scary” person. Moving into high school, more people seemed to like my sense of style. We formed out own little group of intelligent people. We were all frequently talked about and picked on.
One day my 10th grade year, I was asked, “Why do you dress like that?” I kindly responded with, “I love it and I would never change a thing about myself”. Being the “freak” gave me a chance to sit back and see the whole picture instead of being a part of the teasing. I was able to see people for who they really were.
Throughout high school I was able to accept the nerdy girl who sits at home and writes poetry on Friday nights for fun. In doing this, I found my best friend. I also learned to befriend the Special Education student whose only friend was her pencil. But the best thing I learned was compassion. To me, compassion is a totally different way of seeing things and accepting them. I am not ashamed of being remembered as the blue-haired, black wearing, loving, and compassionate Goth girl because I know that I have helped people when no one else would because of what they saw on the outside. But in reality, if we alled at people from the inside, we all might see the black t-shirt in everyone.
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