
Last week, on my lunch break at a café I haunt (no pun intended) within walking distance of work, I spied a couple of young goths a few tables away from mine. Their makeup was stark, clothes over-the-top, and eye-rolls were in full effect – not so different than me when I was their age (I won’t say just how long ago that was). It was nostalgic and charming to see a modern day version of myself and friends in aeons past. As I sipped the mediocre coffee, I began to think about people like me: the gothlings who grew into adults (who either embraced their dark heritage all along the path or denied that it ever stuck).