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A Confused Youth
Perhaps I am one of their stereotypical "confused youths". I feel the urge to cut my hair in the style of a male mod, to live under his philosophies and wisdoms, to learn what I can through ear-splitting music. To attempt "clean living under difficult circumstances". Dress as a mod, be the last face and the only American-born number. I feel the urge to cut my hair just under my jawline, too. To make it wavy and dark .. don a black bowler hat and sombre suit, paint on a curly moustache and drift through the world, meditative on pain, to wear lace and black velvet, live among silent book-lined walls.Or, perhaps, merely leave my hair as it is, long and free-flowing, to assume the role of the misplaced flower-child, wander the Earth in my vintage jeans and linen shirts, to preach love and peace whilst strung with beads, to eat no meat and ponder natural things. As it is now, I am a morbid vegetarian pondering the poetry of idols dead beyond my reach, ensconced and soaked though with love as thick and as glisteringly jewel-toned as blood. A lover of lace and velvet, miscreant, struggling to comprehend empathy whilst strung with beads shaped like skulls. Morbidly optimistic manic-depressive. Sober dark eyes and a dazed, weary child's face stamped with cynicism, scorn, and wondering adoration. Tapering olive-coloured fingers that may hopefully wring music from a bass, one day. I want to uncertainedly cradle a bass in the middle of a hazy room. And I am so very sick of the modern female's image. What is this paint-caked, name branded mockery of beauty and innocence, giggling stupidly over portable telephones? I would rather be a boy, staring in the face of these circumstances as I do. I wish to be a mod, a poet, a suicidal flower-child. Sincere above all. To Hell with all these girlish cliches. But, you know, sometimes, I'm a liar. And my Mother .. she would have me look "my part". No boy's haircuts, no men's clothes. Your voice will not deepen like your brother's. But why is it, that if boys should wear a certain style it becomes theirs, and is limited to them? Again, my friends, I think that I am confused.
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