The Audiophile

"Thank you guys, we love you so much!" The crowd roar became louder as their arms wailed around in the air as if they were in trouble.

But this was no trouble, no this was a concert.

And why was I attending this concert?

Well lets just say that someone has a small addiction to concert. That certain someone being me.

Yes, I admit it. I believe everyone has gone through a time where they've been addicted to something, whether its the make up you get from your parent, or those creepy collection dolls that old men and women tend to hold onto way to long in their lives, mines just happened to be attending live musical entertainments. Oh boy was I in deep. Rehab couldn't cure this addiction I've been holding since I was four.

I don't know what it is. Is it hot sweaty human body heat you feel when your jumping for joy? The long and anxious hours of standing in line since you wanted to be the first one there? Or maybe its the actually rush of listening to the artist pour their heart and soul into every song they sing, and than continue on with four or more encores? Gets my heart racing just thinking about them.

It all started when I was four and my father took me to a childish concert for reason's unknown. I don't remember anything clearly, but I do get a constant reminder of my embarrassments from than whenever company comes over. Apparently, I was dancing as if I had squirrels in my pants. Though I don't remember that memory clearly, I do remember the happiness that rushed over my when they would sing and dance.

Ever since than it has been my goal to become a singer, so I too could give happiness and a huge adrenaline rush like that childish singer star did.

Though I haven't made it big yet, I do stay at home and practice in front of the mirror as if I was someone as huge like Madonna or reenact each and every boy in One Direction. Belching out notes, you would suspect me to be one of those loud rowdy people in school who brag about the talent they've practiced upon for years.

But sadly I wasn't, I was just an outcast at school; my only friends being the people on the posters than were tapped upon my walls. Creepy, yeah I know, but no one would ever touch the girl with the ugly glasses or the girl who smelt like farm.

Wasn't my fault my family was the only ones who decided to buy land and farm on it. But no one saw it that way, they saw it as a flaw and decided they were going to pick on me about it.

So now what? What was a typical outcast to do when they have no friends and is constantly bullied at school? That where my addiction to concerts fill the void.

They cause me to go in a frenzy, being completely starstrucked with the presences in front of me. Than I turn into a whole new person, a person no one at my school has ever seen. Outcast Carson Dooley is no more once I step foot into a concert. No, Carson Dooley turns a into vibrant, friendly, confident girl once surrounded by the scene of entertainment like this.

The rush of being a social butterfly is to much for me to just give up once I was out at these events. It felt amazing, to have people just like you, dancing around singing the songs that you also new. It just made me purely happy if that makes sense.

So it only makes sense that my dream was to become a bands journalist.

Not only does that take me away from the terrible small town I've grown up in, but it also fills the void of my addiction. A win-win if you ask me.

So that was the plan this summer, to miraculously become a journalist for some band to document their lives and leave this town and everything behind.

My name is Carter Dooley and I am a audiophile.