Emo kids.

In my school, there were plenty of groups that fought hard to separate themselves from the mainstream, just like in every other school in the world. However, there was one group in particular that really went the extra mile. This group was loosely referred to as "emo kids." For the uninitiated, the sub genre of emo emerged as a whiny, faux-emotional style of songwriting where the singer would generally play a guitar and cry into a microphone while a back-up singer would scream at the top of his lungs. Even though most members of these emo bands were far into their twenties, they would tend to sing about subjects that would generally pertain to a 15-year old: difficult break-ups, how much parents can suck, curfews, how the world isn't fair, wah wah wah...

Long story short, these corny singers inspired a generation of kids to have long, flippy hair in their eyes, wear ultra-tight jeans, black (or sky blue) t-shirts, and sometimes thick rimmed glasses. The overwhelming amount of suicide references in emo songs instilled a mopey, apathetic demeanor in most emo kids who would act as if every little thing that affected them brought them one step closer to ending it all. These kids would often be seen sitting against the wall in various hallways of the school, arms and legs lying in every direction like marionette puppets. They simply looked like bums. Most who would walk by them would snicker or simply ignore them. It was clear to everyone, including themselves that they were just a part of a trend and that they were only in it for the attention.

As I was nearing the end of my high school career, I noticed the emo population slowly diminishing. It seemed that these emos who were once so proud of their style were now flocking to newer, shinier trends like indie rock. These kids who were once known for their ridiculously long-in-the-front hair were now cutting it slightly shorter and growing hipster moustaches. They were trading in their Fall Out Boy t-shirts for Death Cab For Cutie t-shirts. Their myspace pictures no longer featured arm-length shots of their faces taken in their bathrooms, but new photos (Polaroids now) of them admiring birds, or dancing in fountains, or sipping chai tea lattes.

While I’m sure there are still some kids who hold on to that last shred of emo glory, most have traded up. Nothing gold can stay…