All because of a concert that happened to somehow change my perspective on the world for a little while.

When I’m at my lowest, a concert is something that keeps me on living.

I’ve been told before ‘Don’t wish your life away’

I spend my life counting down to the nights where I feel free.

No one understands that but me.

No one understands how it makes me feel.

What feeling truly alive really feels like.

I have no negative emotions or memories associated with concerts.

When I think back to a concert, my life may have been a mess outside of that arena, but inside that arena, it all fades away.

When I went to my second concert, I was at my lowest moment mentally.

I was in the hospital two months prior, and to this day being rushed to a hospital in the back of an ambulance with tears streaming down my face, was the worst experience in my life.

During that concert it all faded.

During and after that concert I stood up straighter, smiled, kept my chin up and genuinely smiled for the first time in months.

For the first time in months I felt okay.

For the first time in months I told myself I was gonna be okay.

It brought back a little bit of what I had been missing for so long.

It brought back a little sliver of hope.

I felt like my head had come above the water for a little while.

I still remember a photograph taken at that concert.

My mom took it. It’s of me and her before the show had started, soon after we’d sat down in our seats.

I look so genuinely happy in that photo.

My smile is so real, not forced.

I wasn’t the girl who had to go to the hospital a few months ago in that photo.

I was who I used to be.

I was who I used to be before I cared what others think.

I was who I was at the happiest time of my life.

I was who I was years ago,

At concerts I’m more than just the damaged girl with trust issues, and lots of baggage.

I’m a girl with passion, and a soul that screams at me that I can live through whatever life throws at me.

That second concert was the second of six.

I’m going to a seventh in July.

I’m going to see the same artist in July that I did during that second concert.

Over two years between the two concerts.

Over two years since that night in the hospital.

Over two years since I decided I was gonna make it.

I still struggle everyday, but that night, during that concert I told myself I was gonna make it.

I’m sure the concert in July, that I’m looking forward to more than anything, will make me forget about that horrible night too, as well as every problem in my life.

The six, almost seven concerts that I’ve been to in my life have all given me the same alive, hopeful feeling.

Six nights of my life were like no other in a good way.

I know I’ll probably never forget that hospital night, but all the positives from concerts silence those voices that scream for me to give that night attention.

My first concert, I went to on September 17, 2015.

My mom told me It was a late birthday present. To me, it was so much more than that.

I went with my mom and a friend I had at the time.

Years later, I can’t stand to be around that friend.

I don’t even want to look at her.

I really just wish I could forget all about her.

Despite what has happened in the past few years, I won’t let her actions that led me to seperate myself from her, ruin that night for me.

Nothing could ruin that night for me.

I kinda wish I could crop her out of the photos though.

The concert gave me that rush for the first time and I knew that this was what I wanted.

I still remember the feeling when I walked into that arena for the very first time.

I’ve already gone into detail about my second concert, but it’s a concert, I could keep going on and on forever.

That night I didn’t just smile for the first time in months.

I smiled over the small things as well.

I felt better about myself.

Instead of telling myself I was stupid when I got stuck in a tour shirt I had bought, I thought it was hilarious.

My third concert was when I went to see a band that I don’t listen to anymore.

Nevertheless, that night was still one to remember.

We were the second row from the very back , but I didn’t care.

I cried I was so happy.

I swayed back and forth, tears streaming down my face as the singer let the crowd sing a verse and everyone came together in harmony.

Another wonderful thing at concerts, when meaningful lyrics with a beautiful melody are being sung by thousands of people, in harmony, voices merging together to become one.

I didn’t stop crying until I went to bed that night.

My fourth concert was the same artist I saw for my first concert.

I still love that artist to death.

My family loves her to death as well, it’s a tradition to see her whenever she comes around.

However, at this fourth concert, the six of us going, were fortunate enough to buy tickets next to each other, and that night we all sat together.

That concert was the only one I’ve been to that took place at a giant stadium instead of just an arena.

It was amazing.

I cried at that one too.

During a sad song a lot of the crowd members sat down for the first and only time that night and swayed in their seats as the artist sat at a piano and sung to the crowd ot thousands of people.

The stadium was the quietest it had been all night, filled with fans listening intently. I reached my hand up to my face to wipe the tears that fell.

I got weird glances from other concert goers like I always do when I shed tears at a concert but I could care less.

At this concert, these were the best seats I’d gotten.

We were right off the floor.

On the car ride there, we all rode in the same car. A carpool to the concert.

Traffic was backed up for miles in every direction leading to the stadium, but none of us cared.

We were all wearing our tour shirts from the previous concert we all attended, sitting, talking, taking pictures to capture our makeup before it got messed up, and our tour shirts from years ago before we bought new ones, making predictions for what the show would be like.

My mom was driving, my aunt who I look up to, in the passenger seat.

My two half cousins, one a sophomore now and the other a senior, were in the middle.

Then me, amd my one full cousin, still a little girl, sat in the very back.

I don’t know what happened in specific, but one of my half cousins, the one who is now a senior, cut off all contact with her dad's side of the family after that night.

We’re related to her through her dad’s side.

The night of the concert was the last time I”ve seen her.

It’s been almost a year.

I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss her.

At least the last time I saw her was a time when we were both having fun, amd my last memory of her was a good one.

The last time I saw her was at around one or two in the morning, technically the next day, but I never really consider it the next day until I wake up.

We drove to the concert in my mom’s car, so after the concert, we dropped them off back at their home before my mom and I started heading home ourselves.

We pulled up to the curb in front of their house and they all got up, and headed towards their house..

Then We all said our goodbyes and “ I love yous.”

I remember it crystal clear.

I was in the very back again like I was on the way to the concert.

I was drifting in and out of consciousness, in a state between half asleep and half awake, letting my head gently roll to the side with the movement of the car.

I think I dozed off a couple of times.

When we arrived at their house, and they got out, the lights in the car turned on, and I leaned forward, saying goodbye and I love you to my family.

The last glimpse I got of her was when she had gotten out of the car and was standing outside, on the road, right next to the car.

It was dark outside at one in the morning, so I could see a little bit more than her silhouette.

A few of the outlines of her facial features.

I could still see the outline of the dark purple lipstick she wore on her lips, that night, even if she was standing mostly in the dark.

I leaned forward, leaning against the seat in front of me and said goodbye, and I love you.

She thanked us, said she loved us and said goodbye.

At the time it was just a simple goodbye after a phenomenal night, nothing more.

I would’ve appreciated it more if I knew that that was gonna be the last time I ever saw her.

Almost a year has passed, and I haven’t seen her since that night.

That’s the last time I saw her.

It hurts my heart to wonder if that really is the last time that I’ll ever see her.

Will we cross paths again?
She’s a senior, almost done with high school and already accepted to her dream university.

She’s insanely happy.

After that, I don’t know what the future holds.

It seems bizarre, thinking that that night might have been the last time I will ever see her if things continue the way they are now.

It seems crazy, but unfortunately it’s a possibility.

She was one of the people I most looked forward to seeing at family reunions, and now she doesn’t show up anymore.

On Easter Sunday coming up, she won’t be there.

If she is then it’s a miracle.

I don’t know her exact reason or the exact story for why she suddenly disappeared.

Apparently it all started shortly after the concert.

That concert was the last memories I have of her.

It hurts not seeing her anymore, but at least she’s alive and well, my most recent memory of her from a night where we were both young and reckless.

She seems happy, and I genuinely hope she is.

With my anxiety, I can’t help but wonder if the separation from our side of the family has something to do with me.

It’s weird and uncomfortable, seeing her spot on the couch at grandmas house empty.

Her spot at the table on Thanksgiving empty.

No one voices it, but I think we’re all kinda waiting for her to walk through the door and join us again.

That night, when she was standing in the street and after goodbyes were said, she closed the car door, the lights inside the car went off soon after, and that was it.

I looked out the window and saw her walking up to the house as my mom and I pulled up, with the rest of her family.

Then we drove away into the night, and I never saw her again.

I wonder how much she remembers about me?
Does she remember my laugh?
My smile?
My favorite part from that night?
I don’t know if I’ll ever find out.

I felt awful this year, not sending her anything for her birthday.

I knew I wouldn’t get any sort of response.

My family had tried to reach out to her but with no success.

Now I think most of them have turned against her.

They’re angry at her.

I’m not. I love her a lot and could never imagine hating her.

I just miss her.

I’m young, but so far in life, so many people who I have loved dearly, walked away without ever telling me why.

I’m just hurt, losing someone else I love, without any sort of reason.

I still love her, like I love everyone that suddenly left my life that I cared about.

But she’s family, and she means so much more to me.

I love her so much more.

I’d be willing to do so much to be able to hug her one last time.

I feel like I’m grieving someone who isn’t dead.

I don’t associate the concert with her disappearance.

I have no bad memories associated with concerts.

I see the concert as the last good thing before it all fell apart.

And it was a way to go out with a bang.

Then there was my fifth concert, when I saw my favorite band in concert.

That was probably the best night of my life, and the best out of the six, almost seven concerts that I’ve been lucky enough to attend.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so excited, fearless, hopeful and alive all at once than what I did that night.

The concert was the day after my fifteenth birthday.

The best birthday present I’ve ever received.

I’m grateful they happened to be in my state so close to my birthday.

A few people from my school were at the concert, but luckily we weren’t near each other.

I wouldn’t call them my friends.

Not even close.

I can’t stand to be around the, but I’m forced to.

They share some of the same interests with me, so they pulled me into their clique when I was alone and vulnerable.

They drained me of every ounce of happiness I once had.

So while they were blowing up my phone, asking me where I was sitting so we could ‘hang out’ I ignored it, and had the time of my life, forgetting all about them and the hurt they caused me.

I enjoyed every second of the concert.

It feels so insane seeing these people in real life, in front of me, instead of through a screen or listening to them through headphones, like I had been for so long.

It doesn’t matter to me how close or how far away I am from the stage as long as I get to go.

The morning after the concert was a Monday morning, during the school year.

Luckily, school was on a two hour delay so I got more sleep.

I actually woke up naturally, with the sun shining in through my bedroom windows and the same content feeling.

Then my sixth concert, and most recent not including the one down the line in July, was when I saw a relatively popular, huge band that was performing a Christmas themed show.

The show was the day after Christmas.

Usually when I go to a concert, I get the tickets months in advance, and know about it, and that I’m going long before the actual night.

However, this time, that wasn’t the case.

I dug out a present from underneath the tree on Christmas morning, after my brother and I had opened everything else and saw that it was a small bag, with the name tag reading that it was for the whole family.

My parents had my brother and I both pick a number to see who got to open it.

I was the closest, so I got the privilege of opening it.

I reached my hand into the bag and pulled out several pieces of rectangular paper, all wrapped in wrapping paper.

Everything within me from prior knowledge, and from feeling them through the wrapping paper, told me that these were concert tickets.

My whole family looked at me, smiles across my parents faces as I took the papers out of the wrapping and soon saw that I was indeed holding four concert tickets in my small, bony hands.

Obviously the whole family was thrilled.

Even the setting of a concert makes me feel a spark inside of my soul.

I almost don’t know how to describe it.

If it’s a feeling that is so good you can’t describe it, hold on to it.

The simple arena or stadium, being there or even seeing it from a car window, sends a wave of excitement through me.

For me, those stadiums or arenas are another place where reality is slightly altered.

I never feel like my usual self when I’m at a concert.

I feel ten times happier and much more free.

Whenever I walk the floors of a concert arena, center or stadium, I feel much more carefree.

My mom has never voiced it, but I’m sure she’s surprised with my change in demeanor when I’m inside a concert arena.

I could wander those arenas forever.

Up and down flights of stairs, through rows of seats, and down the long hallways.

It’s like I’m a completely different person.

A much better version of myself.

The special effects at a concert, both sound and visual never fail to amaze me with how well the visual matches whatever song is being performed.

During a sad song, the phone flashlights that go up everywhere and light up the arena.

During an intense song, when there’s fire spouting up behind the stage, on the stage, in the aisles or anywhere else where it won’t hurt someone.

During a fast song where lights are constantly changing color and patterns to match the beat of the song, the light illuminating the faces and bodies of the concert goers.

I notice all of these things and admire them greatly.

During the most recent concert I attended, my family and I all had good seats.

During the show, the logo of the band performing appeared in front of us, then as a part of the show, burst into flames.

We were so close I could feel the heat of the flames on my face, and the force blew my hair back.

Not enough to hurt or cause damage, but enough to heat me up as I gazed in awe at the logo that was now in flames, all intentional.

When it happened, my whole family flinched and I looked over to my mom to see that the same mesmerized look was plastered across her face.

I looked equivalent to a little kid on Christmas morning when they got what they’ve been asking for so long.

Others must think it’s ridiculous that I get so much happiness from concerts.

I know they’ll never understand.

They get that happiness from something else in life.

I normally don’t like people in the slightest.

I’m an introverted soul.

I don’t engage in any sort of conversation willingly, and whenever I have to work in groups for school I’m miserable the whole time.

Concerts are an exception.

During a concert I’ll gladly talk to a stranger sat besides me while we’re waiting for the show to start, or while waiting in line to get into the venue, or buy tour shirts.

After the concert, I’ll probably never see that person again, and I sometimes wonder how life is treating them outside that venue.

They’re a stranger, but I deep down hope that life is treating them well.

I wonder how they felt waking up the morning after?
Do they have family to greet in the morning? A lover to wake up besides? Work or school to rush to, so they aren’t late?

The morning after a concert, I wake up to the sun streaming in through my bedroom windows and a content feeling.

I”m still wearing my clothes from the night before, and my body is sore from all the exertion, but it’s a good kind of sore.

It’s a reminder of last night.

The morning after my second concert, I woke up at my grandma’s house.

She had surgery recently at that time, and my family was staying at her house to help her.

That’s the only time I’ve woken up in a place that’s not my bed after a concert.

The morning after, my voice may still be raspy, from screaming my lungs out the night before.

The videos and pictures taken from that night, the raspy voice, the sore body and the same clothes are all reminders of the concert.

These memories that won’t die.

These memories that will last forever.

Looking back on them all, I only know one thing for sure.

Concerts are my greatest joy.