Its the thought that counts.

February 1, 2010

When I was your age, “emo” wasn’t an available condition. We had goth, freak, and several flavors of depression to choose from. Life was hard, and we liked it, dagnabbit.

As a veteran of Special Ed, I feel entitled to certain jokes that others would be deemed assholes for laughing at… nevermind telling.  I’ll snicker at the short bus, roll my eyes at a smelly awkward kid with weird habits, and make jewelry mocking teenagers who scar up their bodies trying to get love. Yeah, I said it. I lol at cutters. Of course its a sad and horrible thing to feel so alone and inwardly distraught that one maims the only body they’ll ever know. Of course these people deserve love like everyone else. Of course I have to take a fashionable jab at the shitstorm the school system threw me into.

Seriously… the only way to deal with riding the short bus to school, dodging flying desks all day, and being surrounded by behaviorally challenged kids is to develop a sense of humor about it. Survival, folks. survival.

So here is my little ode to all the kids who felt their bodies weren’t worth leaving intact.  I hope they found what they were looking for.  Click for the listing and more pics.


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