A night in the life of a 17 year old, written in 2005. Also found in an old blog, an entry called "Emo doesn't mean tears"
I’ve never seen a fall day more vivid than one I saw in late October one year. It was one of those days where it seemed like the sky could fall down upon you and you would feel nothing but excitement and curiosity, all mixed into one indescribable feeling. It was the night that I was able to sing my heart out like no one was listening; yet knowing everyone was.
Where I lived, there weren’t very many social events to go to if you weren't into things like clubbing. My friends and I loved the feeling of being surrounded by a hundred people where no one really knew each other, but we wanted something more intimate too. Which is why in high school, I was always at concerts whenever I had the chance. I would go to concerts even if I didn’t know the bands very well. One of the best feelings in the world is being able to stand in the middle of a crowd and just feel the speakers pulsing and hear the crowd mimicking every word the band says. It’s one of those places where you can feel like you belong, even if you don’t belong anywhere else.
There was a song once, and the title isn’t important, nor is the band that sings it. This song was composed with a melody bigger and stronger than most songs I have ever heard. It was a song that captivated me and pulled me into the harmonies. It was a song that included two people of the opposite sex harmonizing and singing accompanied only by an acoustic guitar and a piano. The song compelled me and I longed to hear this song sung in a live setting, not through speakers or headphones. Which is why I was so thrilled when the band who sings this song planned a tour date in my city.
The concert was at a small venue, not much larger than an average coffee shop. As I walked around I noticed that it was not the typical kind of show I attended. The bands lined up to play were not of my taste and the people attending the shows were different types of people than the people that normally attend shows I am present at. I felt like an outsider, surrounded by people who were so different than me. The only thing that connected us was the music. It was one of those moments where you feel alienated but not necessarily in a negative way.
As the show started and the floor lights were replaced by blinding spotlights, a wave of silence fell over the fifty or so people attending the show. The music swept over us and we were engulfed by the pounding tempos and swaying rhythms. I stood near the front of the stage and waited in anticipation for the band to play the song that I had attended the show for. A few songs passed and I waited somewhat impatiently for the acoustic driven song I loved. I tapped my foot and watched the minute hand on a nearby clock, sighing every time another minute without my song being played passed by. It soon became evident that the song would not be played at the show.
I had it imagined in my mind the way that night was supposed to be. I imagined that the lights would turn a shade of cyan blue and all the other lights in the room would dim. I imagined lighters in the air and a silent crowd anticipating every word. I Imagined myself on a pedestal singing along with the lead singer to this duet, in fact in my mind I never even saw the girl who actually sings the part, what I saw is a part of myself that is not often reflected. I saw a memory of years past and I saw a confidence that is usually only reflected in dreams like this.
As the band left the stage, I had the wonderful experience of being able to talk to the members. They all were very understanding and considerate when I said I had come to the show to see them play my favorite song. They apologized and offered to play the song for me one on one. It was a gesture I would remember. As the singer grabbed his acoustic guitar from the mini-van they called a tour bus, a crowd started to gather around. The ghost of all the nights before ours there on that porch had left their imprints all over the walls and you could get lost in all the writing and we entertained ourselves while we awaited the singers’ return.
I remember looking over the porch outside the venue as we stood and I saw leaves falling onto the black pavement. The air tasted cold and crisp and seemed the perfect stereotypical fall day. I don’t remember the series of events but the next thing I knew my friends had volunteered me to sing the girl part in this song along with the singer. I was nervous and scared but I agreed and stepped up onto the stage with him.
It was like déja vu, every moment standing there, singing along to this sweet melody. It wasn’t new to me; it was something I had seen in my head a thousand times before. And as the singer said “keep singing along you sound great,” I had a sudden burst of encouragement. I was confident and strong and as the leaves fell to the ground around us, I wanted to be a part of something bigger. And in a way, I felt I was.
That song seemed to last forever as the night grew later upon us. As the final words escaped my mouth a sense of longing and relief escaped and I walked away feeling that I belonged to something that made me feel more alive than I had felt in a long time. I felt infinite.
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