There was a time in the 90’s when I was a “Goth.” I dyed my hair black, painted my nails black, wore dark makeup and black lipstick, read lots of Poe and Ann Rice, listened to Skinny Puppy and The Cure, wore black velvet skirts with Doc Martens, frequented a nightclub called “Soil” and a coffee shop called “Lestat’s.” When I wasn’t “dressed up” I dressed down in black jeans, flannels and alternative band t-shirts. I painted myself up to both hide who I was and show who I was. I know it sounds confusing, but it’s the truth. I was hurting inside from a lot of things. I was…