The day I discovered I was a punk was an incredible relief. Finally, I was able to put a word on the strange feelings that were living and growing inside of me. Because obviously I'm not wearing a Mohawk or a nappy pin in my nose, and I never even thought of it.
But despite my bourgeoise outfit and very normal figure, I AM punk. It explains my passive-aggressive way of seeing life, my protesting attitude, my many doubts about the world and my continually questionning of life. It explains the despair of mine, that overwhelmed me sometimes. I'd like to be able to yell them into a micro, too, but it will be asking too much.
But whatever I do, I know now that there has always been a lot of people like me, feeling outcasted or angry about the society. And that is a nice feeling.