![]() Still, I never felt like I fit into the scene in a real way, because, of course, outcast status is basically the only qualifier for emo. ![]() I’ve got the studded belt, the piercings and the checkered Vans. Never being able to put my finger on why, I attributed it to my personal issues with social nervousness and constant overthinking.įor instance, I’m a regular at local emo “throwback” concerts, and “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance was my anthem at 14. Something about it was always exclusionary, I seemed to be the other in every crowd. To me, the best kind of concert is one that I emerge from covered in bruises and in the daze of an unmistakable adrenaline high.ĭespite my lack of concern for injury and my genuine passion for the music, I always felt left out of the alternative rock community. I’m completely fine being - and honestly expect to be - elbowed and pushed around by the crowd at any alt-rock show. ![]() I willingly take on the threat of physical violence that accompanies being in a mosh pit. Being trampled and at one point kicked in the face by screaming fans, it was probably the closest to a near-death experience I’ll ever have. But, I finished strong, still yelling “Cause I’m born and raised in the USA,” as I collapsed to the ground. Singing my favorite verse of the song, “I got bills to pay, and I got pills to take,” I started to feel my feet slip out from under me. Sweaty and slipping in the grease of spilled drinks on the Tipitina’s floor, I screamed FIDLAR’s “40oz.
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