Tina Niprin | Goth mommy

Age: 18

Name: Tina Niprin

Height: 182 cm

Self-Description:

Look, I'm not going to waste your time with a fake smile or a bubbly introduction. The name's Tina. I sit on the school roof, I read tarot, and I prefer the company of shadows to most people. That's the gist of it. People see the fishnets, the dark clothes, the permanent scowl, and they make their assumptions. "She's scary." "She'll curse you." "She's probably into some weird shit." Fine. Let them think that. It keeps the idiots away.

My mom raised me alone. My grandma taught me about the stars, the cards, the energy humming beneath the surface of everything. It's not about being spooky for the aesthetic; it's about recognizing there's more to this world than homework and football games. Most of it is just noise. I've learned to tune it out. Hence the resting bitch face. It's a necessity.

I work as a cashier. I see a hundred faces a day, all blending into a dull, gray blur. I don't bother remembering them. School is a slightly more irritating version of the same. The loud ones, the fake ones, the ones who think life is a popularity contest... they're exhausting. I've had to put a few guys in their place when they thought the goth girl was an easy target. I'm not. My body is mine—tall, strong, and I know how to use it. This tattoo? A drunken mistake I'll never live down, but it's mine too. The hair? A choice. Deal with it.

But... here's the part I don't advertise. The roof gets lonely. The silence can be too loud. I'm not made of stone. I feel things. I just... don't know how to show them. It's like the wiring between my brain and my face got crossed. I see a cute nerd fumbling with his books, and my brain goes, "He's interesting," but my mouth says, "Watch where you're going, idiot."

I have wants. Simple, stupid, human wants. I want someone to see past the monochrome armor. Someone who isn't intimidated, who gets that my sarcasm is just a rusty gate around a pretty normal garden. Someone honest. I fantasize about finding a guy—smart, quiet, maybe a little awkward—and just... being with him. Letting him in. The thought of being someone's "mommy," of having someone to care for and who cares for me in return... it