The night of February 12, 2013 was definitely a night to remember. It was the night of the Twenty One Pilots concert. An obscure two piece band known for their unique blend of alternative, pop, indie, rock, electro and reggae, they weren’t your typical Hot 100 artists. Not having heard much from the band, I didn’t have many expectations, but my indie-loving hipster best friend happened to have a ticket and asked me if I wanted to tag along.

“I hope you’re wearing something comfortable... Some practical shoes would be good too. These shows are usually pretty high energy. You probably want to avoid rolling your ankle.”

“Wow, thanks Miranda. That would've been good to know, you know, before we got here."

As practical as her suggestion was, no amount of advice could’ve prepared me for that night.

A few bruises, one punctured eardrum, one concussion, and a few “accidental” gropings from random strangers later, we left the venue. We were exhausted beyond reason. Sweaty, irritable, and nauseous, we staggered to the car wanting nothing more than to gethome as quickly as possible. And every bit of it was worth it. I fell in love with the indescribable energy, I fell in love wirh the incredible opening act, and I fell in love with the unspoken comeraderie that existed between the members of the crowd as we listened and danced without a care in the world.

I never understood what people meant when they talked about having an “out of body” experience, but that night, I felt as if I was watching myself from above the crowd, finally discovering something that I was passionate about, finding something that I never knew was missing. I felt as if I was watching myself become whole.