My mind is full of memories and nostalgia Kitty, I cannot sleep.
I had on black eye-liner.
I had on heavy black eye-liner and the vivid memory of it has taken my breath away. I remember my heavy black
eye-liner because it was the only make-up I ever wore. I had big eyes then and I
liked the look of a felt-tip outline to them, like a cartoon. I liked looking
at my eyes in the mirror, not in vanity’s sense, but more curiosity and a sense of
appreciation, a sense of God.
“What’s up with the eye make-up?” Anthony said as we walked
along The Ponds' path. “Are you a Goth? Are you into The Damned?”
“Gothic fascinates me,” I had said, “but I am no more likely
to label myself with a pop-culture reference, than call myself a chick or a bird."
“So you really are all Edgar Allen Poe, ornate spires and
bats in the belfry. Come to think of it, you look like a Scooby Doo character, too.”
We walked towards the main road.
“If we don’t see a policeman before, we shall make our way
to the village station,” I said resolutely. I was very resolute back then.
“So what fascinates you about the Gothic then? Your yellow T-shirt doesn't go, you need a black one. Have you a teenage
crush on Dave Vanian?”
“Death,” I said smiling. “That’s what fascinates me about
the Gothic. Death and Art.”
“You have huge eyes,” he said, staring at me with a puzzled look all of a sudden, as we stopped
for a moment to cross the road.
“You have a huge ego,” I replied.
“Where do you get that from? That was totally uncalled for?
You barely know me.”
“I know that you are inconsiderate enough to drum all night,
at the first chance you get, with no regard for your neighbours at all.
“I also know that look on your face which says you are satisfied that you have
worked me out. That condescending smirk which mistakenly says “you are no
mystery to me”. I'll have you know that we are all mysteries and it’s your arrogance I can’t stand - that arrogant, know-it-all self-satisfaction.”
“You have beautiful eyes,” he said to me, so sincerely that,
for the first time, I felt threatened by his presence.
“I’m a respectable young lady,” I said. “And if you speak to me like
that once more, I shall be forced to flatten you.”
I remember how I wore my eye-liner that day, thick, I liked it so much, putting
on a little too much, so as to make me special and set me apart, a little, from the mindless crowd.
I remember every word we said to each other and I remember my black eye-liner surrounding my big eyes, which made me look so special.
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