“…Going through a bit of a goth phase,” I overheard one of my parents sigh to someone on the other end of the line. “Goth phase,” I snickered to myself, “yeah, they’ll see, this is who I really am.”

Years into this “goth phase,” every time I exited my teenage goth bedroom, my latest goth outfit – nah, creation! - was met with furrowed parental brows and the pleading look that said, “are you really wearing that out?” I’d double down in my resolve, and meet their look with my own defiant (albeit overly-eyelinered one) that silently said, “of course.”