Robert Smith: A Birthday Full of Sad

I remember standing in front of the televsion as a small child watching drops of water fell upon a stalagmite as a funeral dirge blared from speakers that had seen better days. As a tiny misanthrope, these two things, caves (where stalagmites are birthed) and funeral dirges, spoke to my soul. At the tender age of 8, this first glimpse of Lovesong began my love affair with The Cure.

Obviously, I couldn’t rush out and get music because the internet had not yet been invented and I had no job. This made me even more sad. The world was not smiling upon me and this made my love for all things Robert Smith all the more apparent. He was singing my childhood pain while wearing eyeshadow and lipstick under a head of hair that was wild and crazy like my young emotions.

It wasn’t until sometime later that I was able to stand on the edge of the deep green sea that was The Cure’s music. When I lived in Germany, my caretaker had a friend that displayed a “Boy’s Don’t Cry” on her barracks wall. Strangely, a 20 something year old and a child of only 13 years could bond over their love for this band. She used to let me sit in her room and listen to all of her albums. It was a glorious time of EPIC SADNESS.

I didn’t know what Goth was back then. I just knew I was always sad because living sucked and Robert Smith made me happy because “HOLY SHIT SOMEONE FEELS LIKE ME!” So there I was, alone and eating lunch with the other band nerds in middle school talking about bands like Depeche Mode, NIN, Bauhaus, and well, you get the tragic idea.

It wasn’t until high school, when I could save my lunch money and scam those weird music clubs that sent you 20 CD’s in the mail for a penny that I was able to develope the musical tastes of most meloncholy mall goth.

Things I can thank Robert Smith for:

  • My love of cats.
  • My love of sadness.
  • My love for locking myself in my room with tea candles lit as I cry.
  • My love of caves.

Now that I am done rambling on about my love for The Cure, I just want to wish Robert Smith the best birthday ever. You know, because he deserves it. He deserves it because he saved from the despair of my youth and oh so sad emotions.

So, today, Robert Smith, I just want to give you this:

See? All cats ARE grey. Happy Birthday, Robert Smith!