Hated

Something that I have always had the hardest time understanding is society’s need to demonize or degrade things that they genuinely don’t understand. I know this sounds like a bunch of millennial BS, but I assure you that is not where I am going with this. I am not talking about coming to terms with your 24 different sexual and gender identities. I am speaking to those who feel on the outside because of the type of music you listen to, or the only color you wear is black. Yes, I am talking about the emo generation, and no it is not a phase. It is a life style.

I am a proud emo kid, and I’m 24. However, I sometimes feel extremely judged for it. I wear all black and listen to loud angry music, but I swear I have been treated like I go around kicking kittens and setting churches on fire. Which is not the case. Have you seen kittens? They’re far too cute to kick. I just don’t understand why we are still all lumped into the Satan worshiping stereotype, or that people assume that because we listen to screamy music we are all criminals or murders in training. It just doesn’t make any sense. Take the song Second & Sebring by Of Mice & Men. It is one of the most lyrically beautiful songs I have ever heard. It’s about a boy becoming a man and begging his deceased mother to be proud of him. Oh yeah, so Satanic.

I live and breath music. It is my solace, and it’s my escape. Always has been. Yes, it has shaped my sense of style and self, but it has NEVER made me homicidal. Nor has it given me the urge to sacrifice goats and virgins (or virgin goats if you’re an ATL fan 😊). This just really bugs me. My music doesn’t make me any more of a bad person than going to church makes religious people good ones. It’s out individual actions that define us, not our style or music. So, I would appreciate it if you could go out and do just that. If you’re going to make a judgment make damn sure it’s on a solid character trait, and not some arbitrary thing like music preferences.  

“Who knew you’d be hated for being who you are? Be a big target for all the insecure. There’s a bullseye painted on our chests in the cross hairs of the ignorant, but I am not your scapegoat anymore.” ~Beartooth

Therapy

Mental illness isn’t something I think society can completely understand. Which makes sense considering there are more connections in the human brain than there are stars in the sky. I even believe that there are mentally ill people who don’t totally understand what is happening to them. There does seem to be a very negative connotation to mental illness. The stereotypical mentally ill person paces in their room talking to people that aren’t there or scratching at their arms until they bleed. Of course, there are those that do present symptoms like this, but there are also those who “suffer in silence.” I know that sounds terrible cliché but bear with me.   

I, like many others out there, suffer from sever depression. However, I function, for the most part, in a normal manner. I get up everyday and go to work. I eat lunch, call my mother, post funny memes on Twitter. What most people don’t know is how difficult it is for me to get up in the morning. They don’t see my battles with myself about how worthless I am. I am not telling you this to gain pity. It is just a fact of my life, and there are lots of other just like me. We function, but struggle with everyday activities. The forgone conclusion about those in the world that are mentally ill is, “They need professional help.”

While there are those out there that do need “professional help.”  There are many that just need help. Alex Gaskarth of All Time Low said this about his song Therapy, “Therapy is about every kid’s nightmare when people are telling you that you need to get help, but all you really want is a hug.” This really resonated with me the first time I heard it. The song itself is wonderful, but to put this meaning to those words really helped clarify something for me. When you suffer from depression all you really want is people in your life who will “give you a hug.” Often, just talking to a friend or family member is enough to really help those suffering from those silent mental illnesses.       

The sad thing is that quite a few people can’t “handle” someone when they are symptomatic or experiencing a depressive episode. They claim that it is too much stress on them, or too difficult for them to deal with. I have been told something similar many times by people I considered my friends. If you, as an outsider, are struggling oh so hard with someone else’s depression can you fathom how they feel. They must live with these feelings day in and day out. They must experience them first hand. Be considerate of those in your life that may be suffering from these things. They can’t always help how they feel, or how they react to the world around them, and they are NEVER a burden.

The Reckless and the Brave

I don’t think that just anyone can really understand what music can mean to someone in a really terrible situation.  Obviously, those that are going through it understand it because they are the one’s living it. I am talking about those who don’t need it. The one’s that have found other methods of coping. Healthy or unhealthy, it really doesn’t matter. They just don’t use music to do it. Now, those of us that do you use music as our coping mechanism understand. They understand when I say that I love a band. They know that I don’t just mean their music, but each and every member. That I watch interview videos as much as the music videos. That band members are my backgrounds on my phone screens. They truly know why I need them.

                Now, those who don’t understand are the ones I would like to address at this time. To you the obsessiveness we show for these bands is silly. I have been told that, “You don’t even actually know them. Why do they matter so much?” It’s true that I don’t necessarily know them on the level I know my family or close friends, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know them. Bands put everything they have into their music. Every heartache, late night, or fight goes into their lyrics. I am not talking about pop artists here because let’s be real most of those assholes don’t even write their own music, but I digress. That is not what I want to talk about. I know these people because I relate to them through their lyrics. When Kellin Quinn wrote about being abandoned by his father in A Trophy Father’s Trophy Son you bet your ass that I related to that. My father left me when I was very young. I know how that feels. Isn’t that the same type of connection you get from friends or family when you talk to them. Just because it’s a different form of communication doesn’t mean I don’t know and understand them.

                The other point that was brought up to me was that I use music as a “crutch.” How on Earth can music be a crutch? I have always thought of music as my inner voice. Whenever someone asks me to explain how I am feeling, or what I am thinking I can never find the words, but I can always find a song that explains it. Music allows me to deal with my emotions is a safer way than what other alternatives are out there. I could be addicted to drugs, or I could be on a million medications, but instead I listen to music day in and day out. I obsess about my favorite bands. I spend all of my money on band tattoos and concerts. If it helps me to deal with my stress and emotions in a safe way. I don’t think of it as a crutch, but simply a coping mechanism for the world around me.

                Again, I am at a loss for words. I wish there was someway for me to explain what music and bands mean to people like me, but I just don’t have the appropriate words for it. Of course, I know someone who does. Alex Gaskarth of All Time Low said, “Loving a band with all your heart is something you understand when it happens to you. On the surface, others can see it as a petty obsession, but they’ll just never know the feeling of putting so much faith into a few people on the other side of the world. It’s hard to explain it to them, the listening to a song after song on repeat, the waits for new albums, the excitement and surreal sensation when you finally get to see them live. They don’t understand why the lyric booklets give you a sense of comfort, or why you past photos of them all over your bedroom walls. And they can’t understand why one band could matter so much. And you think to yourself, ‘because they saved my life.’ But you say nothing, they wouldn’t understand.”  This pretty much sums up everything that I was trying to say. I apologize if this felt disconnected, or nonlinear, but I had to get these feelings out.