Letters To August | 7

Dear August,

I’ve spent some time recently experiencing firsts, as well as revisiting them. The most exciting first I’ve experienced as of yet is going to a concert. And it wasn’t just any concert, it was a Twenty One Pilots concert, which, I mean, wasn’t even something I dared hope for as a first concert. And I was so thankful for the way it all worked out, because it honestly couldn’t have been any better. Like, who would have thought that I’d be in New York the week they were playing MSG for the first time ever? It’s things like this that make being patient so worth it, Thank you God.

IT WAS THE BEST!!! I went by myself, which I was a bit nervous about, because I had this belief that you have to go to a concert with friends in order for it to be enjoyable, but Tota–my sister–attended her first concert alone and she said it was still enjoyable. And, man, was it enjoyable. ‘Enjoyable’ honeslty sounds and feels like an understatement, because it was THE BEST. It was everything I wouldn’t have even known how to hope it would be, because I LOVE Twenty One Pilots. They’ve been with me through some tough, and confusing times. Times where I felt lost, or vulnerable in a not so nice way, or not in control of things or myself. And I’d play their album(s) all the way back home, in my room, and sing and dance along to them with all my heart, sometimes. Like I’d give it my all and I’d experience the moment all by myself, except it didn’t really feel like I was by myself, because I had these two dudes performing songs in my laptop that spoke about things that really spoke to me. That really applied and related to me. And it made me feel not alone. Even though I know that I’m never alone, it’s just that, it’s nice to know that you and these complete strangers can be so intimately unified. Even if they aren’t really there with you. Because they wrote these songs, and they sang them at one point, and that’s all because they’ve gone through their own stuff, too. And being in that concert, it felt exactly like being in my room all the way back home, only on a way bigger scale. Because the dudes that usually perform in my laptop were actually right there in front of me. Performing live. And I sang and danced along with everything I had (despite the fact that I was sick with the flu) and it was so surreal to me because not only were we both experiencing our own emotions while those songs played, but there was a whole arena of people–individuals– experincing their very own personal thoughts and emotions with us. I could feel the emotion all around me. But even more imprtantly, I could feel it in me. I felt it greatly. It was so intense. It was so fulfilling. It was the best. I keep saying that, August. But I literally can’t sum it up any better than that. They’re breathtaking. It was all breathtaking. Thank God.

Some firsts I’ve revisited are: 1) going to the house I got my first period in, which was in New Jersey. 2) seeing the place I had my first birthday in, in Regina, Canada. 3) visiting the first house I ever lived in. Which was nice. We’re meeting a lot of old family friends that we haven’t seen in a long, long while. It’s nice.

While we were in New York, Mama was adamant that we go to New Jersey so that we may visit some extended family. I wasn’t so keen (keane?? idk. The wordpress app refuses to tell me if I’m spelling words wrong) on the idea, and this was mainly out of laziness, but that didn’t matter, because Mama’s mind was set. So we go to Jersey to meet family that I’ve only ever seen once before in my life, and I loved it. There’s something really amusing about thinking “I’m related to this complete stranger.” And, the thing is, we may be strangers to each other technically, but that isn’t the way we treat each other. There’s something very comforting in being secure with family that treats you like family. Regardless of whether or not they know you. The familiarity there isn’t anything you’d find anywhere else. And I found myself loving that feeling.

I think this makes up for at least 3 letters, August. I’ll try and write more, but this letter is now coming to an end. I’m tired.

Love always,

Farah

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