“When I was in seventh grade, I remember feeling my first symptoms of depression- I started sleeping more and more, withdrawing myself, and I began to feel a strange “fuzziness” inside my mind that altered my concentration and memory. In eighth grade is when I began having my first serious thoughts of suicide, and had even set a rough date of August of 2007. Then a strange, though incredibly middle school-esque, thing happened - I became obsessed with a book, Twilight. It was the “new cool thing”, so I had to know everything about it and the author, which included frequenting her web page. And one day, she posted a playlist, which I immediately copied onto my MP3 player. The playlist was simply what she had been listening to while writing the book, but as an obsessed fan it became “my life”. Then, literally, it became my life. As I repetitively listened to those songs, I began to actually listen to the lyrics and not just the words, and suddenly they meant so much more to me. They expressed what I didn’t know how to express, and helped me realize what I was feeling. Somehow, those angsty lyrics gave me the will to keep fighting, for just a bit longer.
Fast forward a few years (precisely, seven) during which I relied on a boy to help my depression. The relationship did not end cleanly, as one would expect from such a long attachment, and landed me my first psychological hospital stay for a second planned suicide. I honestly did not want to be there, or anywhere, and I just wanted to simply disappear. The first couple of days I kept mainly to myself, and slept or pretended to sleep as much as possible. A few days in however, one of the nurses put on some music and Fall Out Boy came on. Now, through my seven year relationship, I had used Fall Out Boy many times in cases of sadness, happiness, rage, and any kind of strong emotion that I wanted to express by yelling odd lyrics- somehow, the nonsensicality made them easier to relate any situation to. The song playing was one I’d heard a million times - Thanks for the Memories - but this time, it felt different. I felt a strange sort of lightness as I listened, and even began to sing out loud, something I’d never in my life done before in front of strangers. The nurse, encouraged by this sudden opening up, let me pick a couple more FOB songs to play and sing to. After that, although it wasn’t more than fifteen minutes, I became much more social in group therapies, more open in my private sessions, and more willing to talk with my family. It was almost as if over all those years I had been building a foundation, but until that moment in the hospital I had never anchored myself to it, just simply walked across it.”