If you live in Ohio, chances are, you've heard of the two-man band from Columbus, Twenty One Pilots. Without listening to them, I imagine the kinds of things you've heard people say about the duo run along the lines of, "They are amazing live," "their lyrics are emotional and relatable," "their sound is different. They don't fit into a genre," "it's like rap, but it's not rap" and "it's screamo ukulele rap!"
And, if you're anything like I am, you are highly selective about your music preferences. I'll be honest, I was a very closed-minded 17-year-old. When I heard a Twenty One Pilots song for the first time in 2012, I hated it purely because the sound was too strange. It wasn't hard enough like rock music, and I couldn't stand rap of any kind. It sounds ridiculous now, but they were too original for me at that point. I was just looking for reasons not to like them.
One night, I sat myself down in my bedroom and read lyrics to one of their songs before listening to it. There were a few lines that stuck out to me as odd, but the overall message made me stop and think. I couldn't help but feel inspired by the hopeful and motivational words that seemed to me to be about overcoming depression. It was called "Holding Onto You," which would later become one of my most favorite songs.
A few months later, I saw them live at a local venue with a few of my friends. It wasn't just a concert; it was an emotional and awesome life experience, and I had barely begun to open my mind to their music. Everyone who has since gone with me to one of their shows has seen a part of my soul I've never shown anywhere else. I can't fully explain it, but they don't just play a bunch of songs; they interact with the audience. They genuinely care about everyone there and express how important each person is to the world. I see a certain vulnerability in them that they're unafraid to reveal. They put their entire being into the performance and leave it all on stage. A TOP concert is not something anyone's description can do justice. You just have to trust me and see for yourself. That was the true beginning of my love for Twenty One Pilots.
Fast forward a few years to last fall, the beginning of my junior year of college, I was shoved into one of the most painful and traumatizing hardships a person can face, and I didn't think I was strong enough to survive it. I didn't see options, but after having a panic attack one night, I put in earphones and listened to two of the only people who could have helped in that moment. Only, this time was different; lyrics to songs I'd come to adore had taken on entirely new meanings, and all of those "odd" lines I couldn't understand when I was in high school, suddenly became crystal clear.
I now knew exactly why the vocalist, Tyler Joseph, was so concerned about others' suicidal thoughts in the song, "Guns for Hands." You become infinitely more sensitive to and protective of people struggling with those thoughts the moment you start planning out your own. Just like Tyler, it kept me up at night. Knowing there were other survivors out there, just like me, kept me up every night, crying myself into a half-sleep. I feel pain for every single one of them, as he does.
The line, "Sometimes to stay alive, you gotta kill your mind," from "Migraine" makes a lot more sense. I always had an idea of what it meant, but I never had felt the meaning. I now know what it's like to have intrusive thoughts constantly going through my head, screaming at me that it will never get better and other horrible things about me. I've noticed a few things along the way that can quiet that noise, usually involving being around certain people. I learned that I am often times my own worst enemy now with my PTSD, anxiety and depressed thoughts. That's why when I feel myself going to bad places, I reach out to someone I trust to help shut off my mind.
I learned just how violent silence can be as Tyler describes in "Car Radio" and how frightening it is to be alone with my demons without distractions or a place to hide. I know what it's like to be both terrified and intrigued by the realization that ending my life could be as easy as the pull of a steering wheel while driving on the road.
"No one else is dealing with your demons, meaning maybe defeating them could be the beginning of your meaning, Friend" is a lyric that brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it. I am a "Kitchen Sink," and you don't know what that means, but I do now. Just as Tyler Joseph has gotten tattoos only he knows the meanings, I, too, have gotten my own Twenty One Pilots-inspired ink. It is their logo, but only I am aware of every life story that contributes to its significance. Only I know the personal symbolism behind those three little marks and the number 21. During particularly struggling days, I look down at my ankle and am instantly reminded that I need to keep going because I'm the only keeper of its full story, of my full story. Sometimes that's all I have to hold onto, but it gives me enough purpose for that moment, and I am OK.
Their music takes me to a good place, somewhere I can feel a sense of innocence again. It brings me comfort and allows me to channel my pain through words that have become my anthem. That night, I was faced with a choice that I'd only just realized I had: to keep living or not. That little flame of hope gave me a tiny bit more strength, and that strength gave me enough determination. Before I knew it, a fire had been lit under me to keep fighting for myself and for every person struggling to keep going. I made a truce with my mind, and I chose to stay alive. That was the moment I began to heal.
Several months have passed, and I have very recently seen them live for my fifth time. I had the opportunity to reflect on my journey through each song they played. I've come so far since that hopeless night in the beginning. As I cried and screamed and jumped around and poured my heart out during their entire performance, I felt overwhelmed with hope, strength and love, and I thanked God for bringing these two humble boys into my life. This life is hard, but I am not alone. Twenty One Pilots is more than a band. Their music is more than pointless words to a melody. And they haven't just made a difference in my life, they have made all of it. l-/
