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"Think of me as a person. Don't think of me as emo; don't think of me as a goth; don't think of me as a punk. Think of me as a person. Don't call me names just because of the way I dress. Don't label me because of the amount of eyeliner I wear. Don't judge me because of all the black I wear. Don't laugh at me because I'm depressed. I am not just some worthless piece of shit to be thrown away. I am a person and if you don't know my past why are you calling me emo? Why are you calling me a goth? Why are you calling me a punk? Why are you calling me worthless?"

People have been known to label people naturally. People decide to put others into categories just because of what they wear. If I wear tons of eyeliner, lots of black and many chains, don't smile but play football, soccer, hockey and run in cross country, am I still a goth or am I jock? If I dress like a gangster, talk like a gangster am I a gangster? What if I listen to punk rock and hate rap? Am I still gangster? What about if I cheerlead, dance, play in a punk rock band, play hockey, play soccer and cut my wrists? What am I then? People tend to be judged to early. You shouldn't label someone because of the music they like or the clothes they wear. You shouldn't label people because of their hobbies or personality. You shouldn't label people, period.

Everyone is guilty of labelling at least once in their life. I've labelled people more than enough in my life and I've said how terrible it is to label people, some may call that a hypocrite. Here I know what I'm doing. I know that I label people and I know that people label me and I know I tell people not to label. It seems that everyone is waiting for everyone else to stop labelling and then they'll stop labelling and judging and it's just going in a endless circle. Labels will allways be present and everyone will always be judged, no matter what we do.

"People thought of me as heartless. They said I was not capable of loving or being loved but they knew nothing about me. I was, and, am very capable of loving, everyone is capable of loving and being loved in return. I bet that there was no one in this room, besides my few friends, that knew that I was in love with love. I would always hope to find that one true love and when I finally found it, I thought I was dreaming. I had been beginning to believe everybody when they said 'no one would ever love that emo punk goth kid.' My life, my dreams, my will to live and my will to love was almost completely gone forever. That was when the beautiful, charming, life-loving, fun Sarah came into the picture. She said that she loved me, over and over again. I never believed those three words, 'I love you,' no matter how many times they came from her beautiful rose-coloured lips. Her deep green eyes saw into mysoul and she saw the pain that lay within me. She knew that I loved her even when I said I didn't love her. I would say 'sorry, I just don't,' over and over again but everytime I said those words she would smile her beautiful smile and give me a small kiss on my cheek and say, 'that's alright. I don't need to hear it when I know it. Being with you is the only thing I will ever need.' She was always so beautiful, she could always know what I was thinking and she always knew that I loved her even if I never admitted it."

It all started after grade seven. I moved across the world to Canada from England. It wasn't even discussed between my parents and I, they split up and my mother took my sister, Bree, and I to Canada only a couple of days later. My dad was a great guy but, for some reason, my mother thought that she needed someone new. She thought that he wasn't good enough for her although he would bring her flowers to work even after 10 years of marriage, he was charming and he was great with Bree and I. We lost all contact with him and I know he tried to contact us and that's why my mother married so quickly. She wanted a different name without having to explain so much to Bree and I, but I knew why she got married. What I don't know is why she picked a guy that she met when she was drunk at a bar. His name was Tynan Moore, his first name meant dark and my mother knew this so I still don't understand why she married him. He was the second reason that I started becoming depressed in the first place and the fact that my mother died the fall that I started back to school didn't help the situation. He was an abusive step-father. He abused Bree sexually and he'd often hit me until I eventually became stronger. When mom was alive, he'd hit her and abuse her emotionally and he'd cheat on her continuosly. I often suggested that she leave him and find someone better but whenever I suggested such a thing, she'd slap me across the face and say, "I love him and if you can't accept that then you deserve every single bruise he gives you." Those words made me feel lowly and useless, and so began the name calling and labelling that I had grown accustomed to.

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