“It’s not a phase,” I would always say. In fact, we all said it, whether ironically or in a self-convincing manor. My parents let it go because they knew it would pass and one day I would move on from it all. Deep down I probably knew it was just stage of my life that eventually I would let go of, but at the time I was convinced it would stick. This very memorable phase of my life was known as my emo phase.

 Urban Dictionary defines emo phase as the following: “Lasting from age 12-16. This phase includes dyeing hair, feeling like no one understands you, and listening to punk rock music from 1990-2009. Can be found at Hot Topic.” Although the hair dyeing never actually happened due to my school’s strict dress code policy, every other part of this definition fit the four-year period of my life. To this day I can’t be sure how I ever got to this stage. My sixth grade self listened to One Direction and wore One Direction shirts.  The rest of my wardrobe consisted of painfully colorful shorts from target or white shirts with phrases that at the time I thought were hilarious and relatable, but in reality they were just cringey. Looking back I can’t be sure when it all happened, but by September of seventh grade, I was dressed head to toe in heavy black clothing and loud rock music played through my headphones as I strolled the crowded hallways.

Over the next four years I developed a music taste that consisted of rock bands from the 90s and modern-day alternative rock that almost always consisted of four boys with long swoopy haircuts and like myself, wore all black. My locker was fully covered in pictures of these bands, and my backpack drowned in pins and patches.  I wore black whenever I could. It didn’t matter to me what the weather was, where I was going, whom I was seeing, I wore the same color every day of my life. A black t-shirt from Hot Topic or a concert I had recently attended, skinny jeans slowly fading in color from being worn too many times, a bandana on my head, and heavy, scuffed up combat boots on my feet.  It was because of this I seriously stuck out in a mainly preppy, all girls school. Either nobody else went through an emo phase or they got over it much quicker than I did, because I was one of the few people in my class who embraced what I believed to be an iconic style. Regardless, I found comfort there.

 Seventh and eighth-grade were tough. I didn’t have the same friends I did in elementary school, I wasn’t girly, I wasn’t social, and I didn’t like going to school events. When I did, I would be found in the corner not knowing what to do. I usually kept to myself and quietly observed because I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself, but at the same time, I wanted people to notice me. When times got too hard I would turn to music. I ran my own fan pages where I would talk my six-thousand followers from around the world about our devotion to these bands, I wrote stories, and would listen to the same albums over and over. I was constantly surrounded by people who thought they were too cool for everything, so I tried to be cooler than I really was which was evident during my eighth-grade rebellious stage. I won’t delve on that too deeply, but it ended very quickly. Eventually I reached high school and things got easier. I became much closer with people who today I consider to be my closest friends. I figured out what I wanted and how to get it, and with this I gained a lot of confidence. By the end of my sophomore year, without even realizing it, I had moved past my emo lifestyle.

 But why? Why would I stay quietly in the shadows when I wanted friends? Why would I listen to the loudest music on iTunes when I could listen to mainstream pop and have a conversation starter with possible friends? Why go to concerts where seating was unheard of and deal with terrifying activities such as crowd surfing, mosh pits and death walls? Why would I wear black all the time even when it was so hot that it felt like I’d actually melt into a puddle of dark fabric and frizzy hair, but never admit that I was hot? Well looking back on it all I’ve come to a few conclusions. Black is a tough looking color when worn correctly. By covering myself in the dark color, I felt more secure and less vulnerable. To this day when I find myself in a situation where I feel anxious or sad, I’ll throw an old band t-shirt and my black skinny jeans, and it just helps me feel better. Almost cooler in a strange way. The transition of friends in seventh grade was difficult for me along with the heartbreaking betrayal from people I trusted more than anything brought me down to my lowest point. But the music that these bands wrote was meaningful. When times got especially difficult songs like “Therapy”, by All Time Low or “Hold on Till May”, by Pierce the Veil helped me cope in ways that nothing else could. Because they told me that eventually, everything would be okay.

As the years went on I became more confident, and now I can say I am finally happy with who I am. I’ve made great friends who share my interests and who I can now joke about that part of my life with because they went through it too. I became surprisingly more outgoing and developed friendships with people whom I never thought I could get along with. I no longer feel out of place when I decide I would rather stay at home in my room, lights dimmed, popcorn bowl in my lap, and watch musicals on YouTube rather than go out.

Even though I don’t listen to those bands as much anymore, mainly due to their transition to main stream pop, and my Hot Topic VIP points card sits in the back of my wallet unused, I will never forget how impactful that time in my life was. Without it, I would have never made the friends I have today. Without it, I would have never had the amazing experiences at concerts and have hilarious stories to talk about. For example, that time I took my mother and cousin to Warped Tour. Without it and the fact that my bands transitioned into the pop culture world, I would have never been forced to find new music where I discovered the wonderful world of Broadway. Without it, I would have never found confidence in myself and reassurance that eventually, everything would get better. And no matter what people around me want me to do, I will never let myself lose this part of me. My closet still contains a concerning number of band t-shirts, I still play my 15-hour long emo playlist in my car, black is still my preferred color to wear, and when My Chemical Romance goes on that reunion tour one day, I’ll be there waiting at the concert center hours in advance to be sure I get the best view.

“Lasting from age 12-16. This phase includes dyeing hair, feeling like no one understands you, and listening to punk rock music from 1990-2009. Can be found at Hot Topic.” As accurate as that definition is, it’s also very generic. Each person who has gone through this phase has their own definition of what it meant to them. Here’s mine: “A phase of a person’s life, lasting anywhere from one to five years, where they can always be seen listening to music that scares most people, spending most of their time on the internet, and throwing their hair in front of their face in order to look like their favorite singer. The employees of Hot Topic probably recognize them when they walk into the store for the fourth time that month. Summer sun is their biggest enemy. They are probably found in the middle of a mosh pit or crowd surfing, they love music more than anything in the world, and find happiness in the lyrics that feel like they were written just for them.  Finally, they feel like everything is falling apart and nobody understands what they are going through”. Those four years of my life shaped me into the person I am today and although I am able to look back on it and laugh, I am grateful it happened to me and I keep the memories, traditions, and feelings very close to my heart.

I guess it wasn’t a phase after all.