Everyone has a special place that they hold close to their hearts. Everyone has a memory they'd like to relive forever. Everyone has a song that takes them to their happy place... or their sad place, or their place where nothing can bother them; everyone has a song that can take them where they want to go. Other than one or two special places that I keep near and dear to my heart, each concert I've been to is a place I'll hold on to forever. Every concert is a memory, a feeling, an emotion I will cherish, and every concert I've been to has had at least one song that has brought goosebumps to my skin and tears to my eyes. So, here's a letter to concerts thanking them for everything they've done for me-- from the people I've met, to the raw emotions I've felt, to the obscure opening acts that have welcomed me to a different view of life.

Dear Concerts,

First and foremost, thank you for showing me what it's like to truly feel an emotion throughout my entire body-- literally, when the bass from the drums was so powerful I could feel my heart pounding inside my chest to the beat of the music. That was, what, over four years ago? And I still remember thinking to myself, this is what it's like to feel alive. I'm pretty sure the blood was pumping through my body to the beat of that song. That was the moment I fell in love with you.

Thank you for showing me what pure empathy is. I know what it's like to wholeheartedly have my heart broken for the something that has nothing to do with me. It's hard not to when emotions so raw and so real are reverberating throughout an entire stadium, palace, temple, or theater, and someone is breaking themselves open for you to have a piece of them through something as intimate as music. You've brought tears to my eyes through the artists you've hosted-- tears of empathy, tears of pain and sadness, and tears simply because of how sweet and beautiful the music was that you sponsored.

I know it's cliché to talk about "being a part of something bigger than yourself," but that's exactly what you've helped me to do, even without me realizing it in that exact moment. Standing there in euphoria, my body swaying to the beat of the music, eyes closed, singing every word to every song, letting the goosebumps on my arms and legs rise, reaching deep into the meaning of the lyrics, feeling every word in every cell of my body-- if you had asked me in that moment why I felt so at peace and content, I would have told you, simply, "It's the music." Looking back on it now, though, I can tell you that, yes, it is the live music, but it is also the fact that I can be there, in that moment, listening to the same exact melodies, chords, lyrics, and bridges, and yet hearing something different than the person standing next to me. Although hundreds of us are contriving different ideas and emotions from the same music, we are all together, because we all have the same love, respect, and addiction to what we're hearing. My euphoria in those moments is not just from the music, but from the people around me, the blood in their bodies bumping to the same beat as mine.

Thank you for introducing me to new people, even if it's just in the hours after the music is done, waiting to get out of a parking lot. I've had some good conversations there and met some great people.

I owe it to you for teaching me to "stop and smell the roses," and to just let myself get caught up in the moment. You taught me it's okay if I don't take one thousand pictures and videos of what I'm doing, because, although "a picture is worth one thousand words," that picture will never be worth the vibes and emotions I'm missing because I'm "experiencing" you from behind my cell phone. (The word "experience" is in quotations because you cannot experience the music if you're behind a screen the whole time).

Though you're not the first to teach me this, I've probably learned this the best from you, simply because of repetition-- all good things must come to an end. "Post-concert" depression is definitely a real thing.

I've walked to my car, the ghosts of lyrics lingering in my mind as I hummed the melodies of my favorite songs, trying to recreate the aura blasting from the stage and swirling from person to person in the breeze; trying to relive the voice-crack of the artist at the moment their emotions overcame the bravado of their performance. It is brief, and usually followed the next day by waking up in the morning with a smile on my face, but there is still a distinct feeling of emptiness whenever I return to my car from the welcoming arms of your melodies.

"Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.” - Victor Hugo

And what is more beautiful than being there, in that moment, hearing an individual's inexpressible thoughts, and feeling them to your very core? What is more satisfying, soul-nourishing, and encouraging than listening to that song, live, that got you through those tough times? Every note sung with emotion powerful enough to bring hundreds of strangers together?

"Music has healing power. It has the ability to take people out of themselves for a few hours." - Elton John

Thank you, concerts, for giving me a chance to heal. Thank you for introducing me to new, beautiful people with the same love and passion for music as me. Thank you for giving me a chance to experience another's emotions as my own. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Yours