I was an indie kid. The term is convoluted, but to boil it down, my tastes and fashion sense were a silent rebellion against the mainstream. I avoided brand names and labels, and instead preferred finding vintage pieces at thrift stores — mixing and matching different styles to achieve an eclectic look against current trends.
My independent streak also manifested itself in my music selections. I prided myself on being into a particular band before they were popular; once they were popular I was no longer a loyal fan. I frequented bars with my friends to see indie rock bands, relishing in the obscurity of the music. My identity was in the indie scene with my indie friends.
I still went to church and gave a nod to my belief in Bible doctrine, but I had carved wooden idols into my soul and enshrined them in my heart.
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