when i see the kids i grew up with now, i feel like there's something missing. some of them, my best friend for instance, are still the same - older, maybe, working, sort of responsible, but the attitude is still there - some are just pretending to be what they used to. there's nothing bad about them, nothing rebellious, just beaten. so i look at myself, wondering when the little punk i used to be died.

i never really knew i was, while i was there. i was surrounded by what i'd now term posers. they looked harder core than thou, but they didn't really have anything that drew them to 'the scene' other than the romance of rebellion. they tried so fucking hard to be hardcore, and it came off as comedy. it's not hard to be a rebel in a small town, it's not hard to be the big fish. but they worked at it, at portraying themselves as something, not for purposes of merely fitting in or setting a precedent we could all use to identify each other, but for the purpose of persuasion. yes, i really am a punk. look at my t-shirt, look at the bags under my eyes from staying out all night, night after night, look at the drugs i do, all the places i've been homeless. yes. i am a punk. ..but it wasn't quite true.

i think i was. cause i didn't put a lot of effort into it. i had my black sweatshirt, my salvation army clothes, but that's as far as it went in terms of style. i'd spend my money for the music, but not the fashion. and yet i'm no different now from them, in terms of how punk i am, writing this, here, in the present.

so where'd it all go? what happened to change us, whichever way we went? i'm on the road to becoming a yuppie, i've realized lately. i'm actively seeking a career in software development. the way things are going, i'll probably end up working for microsoft (and i don't say that simply because it's a well known name - i mean it specifically). the rest, they're building toward their parents' lives. poverty, alcoholism, all those too easily won white trash trophies. and above all stupidity.

we stopped being cynics.

it's a hard pose to maintain, once the system stops caring what you do that harms yourself. when you're a kid, they want you in school, want you normal. but once you're an adult, you're free to fuck up as you please. some of them, they still do, because that's what we thought was the secret, anarchy, the one thing worthy of respect or pride. and the rest? we've realized that that's just prolonging the stupidity of the existence we tried to rebel against. there's nothing in mindless decadence unless you're a rich kid, it gets you nowhere but the gutter. i see the kids i would have been, had i stayed a punk, and i don't feel sorry for them, their outstretched hands and their 7-eleven cups, trying to sneer at capitalism while their stupid lives still depend upon it. fuck you idiots. i'm sorry you're too goddamned stupid to see that you can't win that way. no, i take it back, it's not about winning. it's about surviving. there's no dishonor in trying to stay alive; your utopian ideas will never have any impact if you're not around to convince people of their correctness. you live in a capitalist society. you don't have to play the game, but in not doing so you're even more dependent on it. and that's what some of us figured out.

i miss that little girl, i miss the shows, the pit. i miss not being able to care, stuffing myself full of drugs with only a minor fear of death, no real concern about how other people saw me. i miss full on cynicism, i sometimes wish i was still that brave. but you get older, and you see that you really are fucking yourself over. not in the way that dare claims or that concerned citizens claim.. you fuck yourself over by making yourself needy, by ensuring that you will not live without the assistance of all the things you rebelled against. you can't live outside the system. not in america. so i find it more honorable to make my own luck, not to wait for benevolent, pitying strangers to throw me their greasy quarters.

i'm softer now - i hesitate (sometimes) to be a bitch. i put on the costume of responsibility when i have to, to keep myself in control. but sometimes, i put on my big black boots and i sing at the top of my lungs 'i love livin' in the city!' and i storm the streets, staring everyone down. cause i remember the me who never smiled, who said always what she meant and had no notion of diplomacy, the pure hedonist who scooped half smoked cigarette butts out of ashtrays and ducked out without paying for her lunch. and i love that girl, and she made me, but i can't be that way anymore. i used to be a punk.. but a lot of my dreams are dead, and i grew up.