Just The Things I Love
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The 9 Phases Of Post-Concert Depression - Alternative Press

Reblogged from alternativepressmag

alternativepressmag:

For any rabid music fan, there’s a sort of grieving process that follows an event as momentous as seeing a favorite band live. It’s often referred to as “post-concert depression” around the web, and it goes a little something like this.

Phase One: Euphoria
These are the remnants of what you felt while standing front row, singing (possibly crying) along to your favorite song. It enfolds you into the night, past the merch table and onto the sidewalk where you’ll either choose to battle traffic, or wait by a fence near their bus hoping your favorite musicians come outside to say, “Hello.” Euphoria will extend if you do the latter.

Phase Two: Reflection
You will take a moment to register everything that happened­–either loudly with your friends who were there or quietly on your own. Some people choose to use this phase of their post-show life to write a review or to upload photos. During this phase, you may find yourself writing grandiose statements about how your life is changed forever, or how yes, Fall Out Boy can save rock and roll and you’ll take that to your grave. (Too much?)

READ MORE

PCD (Post Concert Depression)
Example: "I saw my favorite band last night live and I am currently dealing with some serious PCD."
Reblogged from suicidlestraightedge

hightopsandherfavoritesong:

my favorite thing about concerts is that you are surrounded by people who are just like you and you get lost in the music and you don’t have to worry about anything for even a little bit and you meet cool people and idk man i just love concerts so fucking much

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fatandfabulousmermaid:


One of the first things they ask you in the ER is to rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I’ve been asked this question hundreds of times and I remember once, when I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt like my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate the pain. Though I couldn’t speak, I held up 9 fingers. Later, when I started feeling better, the nurse came in and she called me a fighter. “You know how I know?” she said, “You called a 10 a 9.” But that wasn’t the truth. 

I didn’t call it a 9 because I was brave. The reason I called it a 9 was because I was saving my 10…and this was it. 
Reblogged from dimplesandpeaches
fatandfabulousmermaid:


One of the first things they ask you in the ER is to rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I’ve been asked this question hundreds of times and I remember once, when I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt like my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate the pain. Though I couldn’t speak, I held up 9 fingers. Later, when I started feeling better, the nurse came in and she called me a fighter. “You know how I know?” she said, “You called a 10 a 9.” But that wasn’t the truth. 

I didn’t call it a 9 because I was brave. The reason I called it a 9 was because I was saving my 10…and this was it. 
Reblogged from dimplesandpeaches
fatandfabulousmermaid:


One of the first things they ask you in the ER is to rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I’ve been asked this question hundreds of times and I remember once, when I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt like my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate the pain. Though I couldn’t speak, I held up 9 fingers. Later, when I started feeling better, the nurse came in and she called me a fighter. “You know how I know?” she said, “You called a 10 a 9.” But that wasn’t the truth. 

I didn’t call it a 9 because I was brave. The reason I called it a 9 was because I was saving my 10…and this was it. 
Reblogged from dimplesandpeaches
fatandfabulousmermaid:


One of the first things they ask you in the ER is to rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I’ve been asked this question hundreds of times and I remember once, when I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt like my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate the pain. Though I couldn’t speak, I held up 9 fingers. Later, when I started feeling better, the nurse came in and she called me a fighter. “You know how I know?” she said, “You called a 10 a 9.” But that wasn’t the truth. 

I didn’t call it a 9 because I was brave. The reason I called it a 9 was because I was saving my 10…and this was it. 
Reblogged from dimplesandpeaches

fatandfabulousmermaid:

One of the first things they ask you in the ER is to rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I’ve been asked this question hundreds of times and I remember once, when I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt like my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate the pain. Though I couldn’t speak, I held up 9 fingers. Later, when I started feeling better, the nurse came in and she called me a fighter. “You know how I know?” she said, “You called a 10 a 9.” But that wasn’t the truth.

I didn’t call it a 9 because I was brave. The reason I called it a 9 was because I was saving my 10…and this was it. 

(Source: linseymorris)

tomhazeldine:

Make bold choices and make mistakes. It’s all those things that add up to the person you become.
Reblogged from tomhazeldine

tomhazeldine:

Make bold choices and make mistakes. It’s all those things that add up to the person you become.