it's pitch black and bleak on 7th st, but it's electric at the voltage lounge. it's also st. patrick's day.
you rummage through your spring cleaning donations to find your bamboozle tee from 2008, black skinny jeans, your worn chuck taylors inked with lyrics of yesteryear and angst, and black kohl eyeliner. once you've crammed into the tee you've outgrown and your shared lyft is when you remember you forgot to put on your black tattoo choker necklace. so much for the ~aethestic~
you stand among your fellow hot topic teens of the 2000s, clad in similar band tees and skintight jeans. you no longer have to belt taking back sunday alone in your broken down car. you get to yell over drunken stupors and invasive internal monologues. you scream familiar lyrics, yellowcard style. you let (sound) waves crash down on you and take you away (to another time). emo night serves as a friendly reminder that
you dreamed of growing up but never imagined you would end up in the past.
this is my mixtape: