Music Made Us Okay

In His Arms

My first concert was in Dallas to watch the Fresh Beat Band. My second concert is today, I saved up for the $150 dollar tickets since I heard that they were touring in the states again and now I was here and it was...well it was amazing. Watching a band live is a maybe thrice in a lifetime experience and your first one is always the best and newest and amazingest, even more so if you go alone. If I had gone with a friend I would've felt the need to act as my usual self. Now that I was away from people that knew me I was just me and a girl who loved music.

Singing along to lyrics that thousands of people know all at once changes you and right now I was experiencing that change. Everyone was singing off key and a little faster than the lead vocalist but it was okay because I was hot and sweaty and having a good time. Even after I accidently stepped on some toes and elbowed a few boobs it was okay because we all liked the same band and all connected to the songs and were a little family for that one moment.

Then my song was playing and it wasn't just my song, it was all of our songs and during that song we stopped dancing and all looked ahead in silence. The band members stopped moving around the stage wildy and just stayed still and just played, because that was just the type of song it was. This was also the time when I decided to trip and fall into someone's arms. They were very nice arms if I may add and they held me steady.

I didn't know whose body they belonged to but I stayed there anyways because it was just the type of thing this type of song made you do. He didn't move away either, even after the set ended and the crowd was already starting to disperse. I needed to know what stranger held me like that because I wanted to find a way for that to happen again. I turned my head around to face whoever it was and he had his eyes focused on me. They were just brown, nothing special about them but for some reason they looked like the brown that would be my salvation.

"Hi," I said weakly. He laughed, it wasn't a chuckle, it was an honest to goodness laugh and I could feel his chest vibrate where my back was pressed to him.

"I've been holding on to you in a very intimate way for half an hour and now you say hi," he told me with a straight face. His tone however told me he was joking. I liked him, he was a nice person holder and made a warm space heater.

"Sorry, maybe I should introduce myself, I'm Ariana. Everyone calls me Arrie though."

And for some reason he frowned and that easy going attitude slipped and I realized my mistake. This guy had been in my classes since kindergarten and I hadn't recognized him. He was a junior, 16 and named Gerald. He was that one guy that was hospitalized twice for attempted suicides and gave up wearing long sleeves because everyone already knew his secret. Now I noticed how his arms felt rough against my skin because of his raised scars.

I didn't recognize him because the Gerald everyone knew didn't hold onto strangers or say witty, confident things or made you feel safe. Of course I wasn't me either. I would never have sang out loud without being shy or let a stranger hold me or feel at home with people I didn't know. Music made us different.