The Sorry Tale of Jeremiah Non-Goth

Being Gothic is something that is blatantly misunderstood by the majority of society. A couple of viewings of Donnie Darko and people think they have the mentality, the attitude, the ethos and even the dress sense worked out. This is not the case at all and is perfectly illustrated by the sorry tale of Jeremy Non-Goth. Poor Jeremy had no idea but he also had no friends, about as much charisma as a sandwich toaster and musical taste that could only be described as abysmal.

What made Jeremy attempt to reinvent himself as a Goth? Simplistically, on his way to college he witnessed the most beautiful vision he had ever seen. Dawn. I don't mean the softly shimmering sun arising to make diamonds of light sparkle from what were the drops of the early morning dew. I mean Dawn (henceforth called Dawntreader to avoid confusion) - the angel of the night.

Dawntreader was the most visually stunning apparition Jeremy had ever seen. A sumptious and radiating slice of perfection with a silken torrent of jet black hair, contrasting against her perfect, white alabaster skin. The deepest dark brown eyes emphasised by the perfectly applied kohl giving her eyes a cleopatra like appearance and full blood red lips with the slightest hint of a smile or just a knowing look that she was, beauty personified.

Her clothes seemed to allow her to float rather than walk, a stunning full length dress of deepest purple flecked with gold, shimmering as she moved and the long black coat trailing in her wake giving no hint as to what treasures of the flesh were hidden beneath.

Jeremy just longed to be seen by this damsel from a dream but she just kept moving on her way without a glance in his direction. For the rest of the day, Jeremy could not purge his mind or even his soul of the image of Dawntreader passing by, as a blood red sun arose behind her as a backdrop of dreamlike proportions. The remainder of the week, Jeremy waited at the same spot every day, at the very same time just to drink in the beauty of this maiden of the gods. An obsession it became, so bad he couldn't sleep without thinking about her. The image was burned on the inside of his eyes, in his heart and in his soul.

By the end of the week, half demented by his longing for this angel of the morning, he vowed to do whatever he could to make her see him. He went out and bought Gothic magazines, Gothic clothes and died his hair black. Convinced that he had everything in place to be seen, not invisible, he waited in the usual place, at the usual time. Lo and behold, Dawntreader arrived and in a move that felt like a dagger through Jeremys heart, she walked right past him again. He was bereft of hope - his only hopes dashed and he ran home and threw himself onto his bed and wept, for the first time, tears of passion.

After days of angst, tears, depression and frustration he came to the one conclusion he hadn't wanted to - his preconceptions of Goth were incorrect. He had to go to the library and study. No more would sporting prowess prevail, he had to learn. He had to read. He had to study and open his heart.

As time passed, Jeremy realised he had ignored all he had come to adore. Now, he appreciated art, life and death. He came to understand the masters, and their manner of expression. He sat, he learned and he grew.

Eventually, as Goth pervaded his very soul, he wrote the poem he should have given her on the first day and presented Dawntreader with it. She closed her eyes and a tear of infinite sadness rolled down her cheek as she said "if only you could have said this to me, you would have captured my heart in a crystal cage and I would have followed you to the end of the universe".

With a sadness, pervading Jeremys very soul, Dawntreader left and Jeremy wept.

a luego,
S

ps moral to the story - love is eternal, time is transient....