I remember my first concert like it was yesterday. It was four days after I was diagnosed with my disorder.
I was in the hospital for a week after fainting in the subway. I remember listening to my favorite band. Preparing myself for my first show. I knew every word to every song.
I remember waking up and not knowing what was going on. I was rushed to the emergency for the longest week of my life.
My dad rushed to the emergency room. And my mom shortly after. I was covered in brain scans and tubes and wires.
I was a horrified thirteen year old.
I counted down the days and knew the concert I was going to was coming up.
I was afraid I’d miss them. That I wouldn’t be able to see my favorite band play my favorite songs. Regardless if I was in the nose bleeds of a sold out show in the garden.
I begged my parents and eventually was allowed to attend.
I put on my band t, and walked up the steps. Looked up and there it was. The giant Fall Out Boy sign.
I didn’t care that I was sick or the possible consequences of this stupid disorder. I was seeing Fall Out Boy. I knew every song. And cried as I sang my heart out to Saturday while Pete jumped in the crowd.
I was the happiest girl in the world. The way the concert made me feel was indescribable. Like filling my heart up or something.
Then again at good morning america, and for a third time at skate and surf. All three times the same feeling.
Don’t know why I thought it was important to share. I just always hold that moment dear to my heart. I don’t care what other people think about them or their music. They fill my heart. And the photos I reblogged and the songs I’ve been listening to remind me of that. So instead of a stupid instgram picture or a selfie. That’s my throw back Thursday.

Thanks for the memories.