As a kid, I was adamant that I was not emo but, let’s be honest, I totally was. I refused to date any guys that weren’t well-versed in eyeliner and rocking too effing tight pants all day errday. When I finally found the “perfect guy”, we sat in the mall, park, etc. looking as miserable as possible and whining about random ish with half our faces obscured by our amazing hair. My younger self would be quite sad to find that I did not carry such behavior on into adulthood. Ah, nostalgia.