I can still see the corner,
part of my old high school’s main foyer
where my friends and I held court.
All of us a wayward clique
of theater kids and gamers
clad in every color or none, no in-between.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We were what the blogs all called “the scene” –
scene kids, scene clothes, scene core –
as everything was “core” –
hardcore, crunk core, crab core –
just like how everything was “punk” –
post-punk, steampunk, seapunk –
just like how everything was “wave” –
new wave, no wave, vaporwave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All of us embraced whatever labels
let us feel fulfilled,
and every day one of us
would come around the corner
with our hair dyed or makeup around our eyes
or some new outfit to hide our feelings behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On any given day in the corner
one of us would cry,
and we were all full of fear
but never afraid to ask why.
We shielded each other from the cruel
and crass comments that flew by.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our scene went on ’til graduation day,
when we stood in our caps and gowns
for one last time in the corner,
not quite ready to say goodbye.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That corner was our space,
despite the tears and fears
of failing to find our place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It fed our need
to be among friends.
And our scene –
despite its distillation on the blogs
into some sensationalized and passing fad –
was fundamental for forming our feelings
so that one day we could actually let them free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because the scene for us
wasn’t just an act we played
while tucked away in the corner.
The scene wasn’t just the messy hair
or the eye shadow or the mismatched clothes.
The scene wasn’t the labels or loud music
although maybe the screaming echoed
what we heard in our heads.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The scene was something
we’re still in today –
in every step and every breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I can still see the corner
where we cheered and cried
and grieved and grew,
where we prayed that one day
all of us, damn the odds,
would truly feel alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
(November 20, 2024)<\/p>\n\n\n\n