Goth Girl Sam

I adjust the mirror to get a better look at myself. My natural long black hair pairs well with my pale complexion, but that wasn’t enough for the look I wanted. So white makeup covers my face to go from pale to sheet white, contrasted further by black lipstick, thick mascara, black eyeliner and smokey eyeshadow. I had spent hours this past summer obsessively applying, removing, and reapplying this exact makeup to achieve consistent results, but I still felt the need to make sure it looked right.

The only goth girl I had seen in high school honestly did not really act any more assertive or confident than any other girl there, but the idea of dressing up this ‘in your face’ was itself something I admired. So here I was wearing a leather choker, a short pleated skirt, a camisole with fancy poofy sleeves that I had cut a slit half way up to show off my transparent thin elbow length gloves that matched my stockings, which rested in my two inch heels. And of course all of this was in black. It was the perfect look to absolutely dominate my new college life.

… As soon as I mustered the courage to leave my car. Any second now. One more deep breath. People are going to look at me when I get out of my car looking like this, and that’s okay. That’s more than okay, it’s why I’m dressed like this. I can do this. I have to do this, if I don’t they will look at me for just sitting in a car for who knows how long. Okay.

Door is open, foot is on the ground. I stand up to my full five feet (the nurse says 4’11” but she just refuses to round properly), I close the door to cut off my escape route. Because confident people don’t need escape routes. I begin walking towards my new dorm and I make it to the door, before remembering that even confident people need their luggage. Walking slowly back to my car, I can’t go fast in these heels, I grab my stuff and desperately tell myself that no one noticed my mistake and confidently don’t even look up to check if anyone did. Yes, my eyes remain on the ground in front of me like confident people do all the time.

Three flights of stairs later and me desperately trying not to sweat and ruin my makeup before meeting my roommate, I finally find my room. I could be wrong but I am pretty sure my roommate is already here. This will be our first meeting, it has to go well. Confidence. But like, casual confidence. Play it cool. Deep breath. Maybe one more. Okay. I’ve got this.

Wait, do I knock? It’s my room so that seems wrong, but we’ve never met so not knocking also feels wrong, but I can’t think of any instance similar enough for me to draw a comparison to figure out which is which… and I am definitely standing and staring at a door for an abnormal amount of time. Don’t look around to see if any one noticed. Confident people don’t do that. And confident people don’t knock on their own door! Let’s go!

I open the door boldly and march in, also boldly, and look in the direction away from the empty bed that must be mine and towards the other side of the room.