R-7

This weekend, I had the pleasure of attending the Shaky Knees music festival. I was only able to purchase a ticket for one day, and so I chose Saturday, with the intention of seeing the Linda Lindas, Cage the Elephant, and My Chemical Romance – three of my favourite bands. There were, of course, a series of minor catastrophes that altered my intended trajectory. It seems Artemis and/or Apollo deigned fit to have me attend the festival alone, instead of with someone. I also made first-time festival attendee mistakes, such as leaving the wristbands in my car (which meant about an hour delay upon entry... I missed seeing the Linda Lindas’ whole set, but was able to hear a few of their songs as I made my way to the venue’s entry, and they were FANTASTIC, as expected!) I caught the tail end of Cage the Elephant’s set, and it just made me all the more sad I missed the rest of it. But I was able to see all of My Chemical Romance’s performance, and it is on this I would like to focus this rumination.

I got into MCR relatively late, to be honest. Whereas most of my friends were listening to MCR in middle and high school, I was just starting to abandon the radio for music I could find and enjoy. Lots of U2 and Jack Johnson and other delicate excursions into music that befit me, rather than music I was born into. I first knew of MCR from one of my loveliest friends; even this very moment, I grin hearing her sing “Teenagers” in the hallways and classrooms we shared. My first memories of MCR are entangled with her, forever. My second delving into MCR came at the hands of my twinsoul, when she organised a roleplay on GaiaOnline centred on their fourth album, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. My first thorough delving into MCR came at the hands of another friend from school, one who graduated a year before me but left me with an incredible music collection. This was how I acquired the first three MCR albums, but I would not listen to them in earnest for about a year.

Whenever I listen to MCR, I feel the presence of those delightful darlings, yes, and, simultaneously, there is an aching in my soul that resonates deeply with their music. I cannot confidently say I know what it is like to live someplace I consider home to me, to my truest self, but I know what home feels like, and their lyrics are etched into the frame of my looking glass.

I started their performance standing beneath a magnificent tree. I had found it upon entering the park, and though it inhibited my view of the entire stage, it was a clear enough view of the video projected of aspects of their performance. I was resigned to my view, despite the ability to wander and stay wherever I wished. I remained there in part to be easily found by one of my darlings, should she seek to join me; it was also less crowded than a direct line of sight to the stage, and I was feeling a bit overwhelmed due to the aforementioned catastrophes.

It is a quaint thing, to find oneself encountering aspects of oneself in as tangible a sense of self as the present. I, thirty years old, stood beneath the tree and beheld the presence of myself at fifteen, at eighteen, at twenty. I felt them standing with me as resolutely as one might reach out and touch their reflection; I saw myself across time, and knew all of us present in that space, simultaneously. My youngest self, still capable of crying, still so nervous to, reached out; I took their hand. My eighteen, relearning how to sing, felt nervous to do so, and so I sang with them. My twenty, feeling all too much, I swayed with them, I danced with them, I screamed and howled with them Together we did all the voices we love to do for “Mama,” scaring some of my fellow concert-goers but delighting my youngest selves, who joined in on the fun. We were alone, but we were together; we were split across a shared timeline, but this moment, this show... we harmonised with the music across time. We shared in it together, revelled in the music that helped us feel less alone in times we felt nothing but alone.

It was when they played “Teenagers” when she, the darling I hoped would join me but did not expect to, found me. I don’t think she noticed, but I almost cried. We hugged. I almost cried again. She asked if I wanted to move closer to the best view of the stage. I followed her. There are few places I wouldn’t; such is the nature of love. My twenty shuddered; there was a time I wanted to follow her anywhere. I have come to accept about myself that my hesitation, when it takes hold of my whole person, when I feel it crying out from every cell in my body simultaneously, tends to be correct. When the hesitation is merely present in my mind, I am hiding from myself; when my sinew, bones, viscera, all, freezes, I am evading horror. Trusting oneself is difficult. Sometimes – many times – we do not wish to. My twenty felt it in their whole body every time they contemplated asking her to let them follow her anywhere; they wish they felt it in their mind. And every time we dwell on this, we are thankful we listened, nonetheless. To have her in our life is... well. There are reasons I call her “sunshine.” Sunflowers befit me; we always turn towards the sun, yes, need it to thrive, yes, rise to meet it, yes – and, quietly, in the coolness and stillness of the moon, we grow, we rest, we respire.

I did not tell her the real reason I laughed, while we sat on the hill, watching MCR.

There was an instance where a jet of fire released a plume, and I snickered. She asked me what was so funny, and I couldn’t tell her the joke, couldn’t tell her the punchline. I couldn’t tell her that a decade ago, I would have sold an organ for the moment we were sharing then. I couldn’t tell her of all the times I contemplated ending my life, of all the times MCR and darlings – the ones mentioned earlier in this rumination, and more, and herself – helped me remember there might be more than suffering, helped me remember that my life is not something to throw away, it is something to relish. I couldn’t tell her that it was moments like that, her with me on a hill at a concert at a venue filled with strangers, that it is for moments like this I endure so, so much. All this joy, all this solace, all this love I feel – how it could have gone out like a candle, like a puff of smoke! How angry I would be, knowing I would have experienced this if I had stayed alive! If I had kept going!

I laughed because I did.

After going through the entirety of The Black Parade, the band played a song from Danger Days and a song from Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge – the former bringing to mind my twinsoul, and the latter bringing to mind my moonflower. My fifteen marvelled at my makeup before they retreated back to their moments. My eighteen laughed, amazed to see how much genuine joy we could find amongst the right people, before they, too, flew back to theirs. My twenty begged me to tell our sunshine I loved her one more time; I did it twice more, once for us both, before the three of us departed to where we must go for the night.