My Story:
I've always believed in the ability of music to save lives. And I've had a lot of bands have moments of saving my life.

But My Chem was different. For the first time, it wasn't enough to be kept alive, to be sustained. There was this underlying challenge, to take advantage of the extended time and to do something more than simply exist. My Chem was the first band that encouraged me to live, that supported taking chances and pushing limits. That made me feel like I was obligated to be something more than who I was supposed to be, who everyone else thought I was.

I first got into My Chem in 2005, during one of the most difficult years of my life. I'd lost a good portion of my friends, was in the process of losing the band that had been MINE, and pretty much felt like I was losing myself. I was depressed to the point of only leaving my apartment to go to work and being so distracted by my own misery that I almost got fired. I didn't know what the point of anything was and I struggled with having to figure out who I was after years of thinking I knew. That spring, I'd first come across My Chem via FUSE, which the local cable access channel ran for several hours on weekends (I still don't know quite how that worked out). I liked them, but used Fall Out Boy as my gateway band out of the depression. In the midst of trying to regain some stability, my whole world was shaken up even further by Hurricane Katrina. I spent three weeks in limbo, then ended up moving in with my dad, hoping for some relief. My Chem was actually the first concert I saw after getting there - less than a month after I'd been uprooted. Standing up in the balcony, I wasn't actually even able to see them (something I completely lament now), but as I listened to them, I felt this sense that maybe things could get better.

Over the next few months, I started listening to them more often, reading about them online, and lurking some fan sites. I didn't want to be involved with other fans because of past experiences, but I wanted to know more about the band. Without even knowing when or how it happened, My Chem solidly established themselves as my new favorite band. I pre-ordered Life on the Murder Scene, and stayed up until 2 am watching the biography the day it arrived (completely ignoring the fact I had a five-hour drive to make in the morning). Hearing about their backgrounds and experiences from them inspired me. The challenges they'd overcome. The opportunities they'd seized. Their ability to triumph over the internal and external obstacles that tried to trip them up. I saw a lot of myself in them. And something in the music, the lyrics, their personalities just clicked with me. I found myself wanting to be something more. Wanting to get past all of the loss and frustration, and figure out who I was going to be instead and what I wanted to do.

With this change in attitude, I started smiling again. I started finding pleasure in the things I enjoyed again. There was still ridiculous amounts of struggle and depression, but a small sense of hope remained. But with the good, came the frustration of feeling stuck, like where I was just wasn't where I was supposed to be. That I wanted so much more out of life than working a 9-to-5 job and existing. Even though I felt challenged to do something more, I didn't know what. And I felt trapped by circumstances.

A simple conversation with my dad over dinner one night changed that. He suggested a path that just FIT, that took advantage of what I love, what I'm good at, who I am. But to follow it required a lot of changes and risks. I've never been afraid of either, but at the time, I wasn't sure I was well enough for it. So I thought about it. Listened to a lot more My Chem. Waited impatiently for the new album. I had the itunes introductory promo about TBP, and ended up cutting it down to the last minute or so, to Gerard talking about "Famous Last Words". What it was about and the one refrain. I'll admit I listened to that repeatedly some nights, just to remember that I wanted more, that I wanted to live. Shortly after TBP came out, I drove to a neighboring state to see My Chem again, at a holiday show. Sat outside for hours waiting to get in, ended up on the barricade. In the press of the crowd, barely able to hear Gerard over the fans singing along, I realized that not only was My Chem my favorite band, but also the best live band I'd ever seen. The power and conviction they demonstrate on stage, the sheer earnestness with which they perform, I hadn't witnessed anything like it. I felt renewed and empowered. Celebrated that night by buying a hoodie instead of using the money for a hotel room, pretty much forcing myself to drive back all night. And I wanted to see them again. As soon as possible.

And I ultimately decided to go for it. Quit my job, moved across the country by myself, went back to school. None of this has been easy either, but I keep turning to My Chem to stay focused, to stay motivated.

Most recently, I took some chances on getting to know people instead of merely lurking. As hesitant as I still am about it, I've gotten the opportunity to meet some amazing people. People who are moved by the music, who are driven by that force instead of whether or not they can connect personally with the band. And they've become phenomenal friends who have been life-savers themselves.

I've traveled a bit more to see them. Traversing icy backroads when the weather was miserable enough to have forced the highways to be closed and somehow not dying en route. Taking my mom up on the opportunity to visit her and see My Chem, and meeting some amazing girls in the process, who offered encouragement and support about the changes I was on the verge of making. More recent ventures, both near and far, getting to spend time with new friends. Having the opportunity to feel like I mattered to people. To spend time in the closest I've come to being home in years.

And through it all, I've relied on My Chem to be my support, to encourage my own internal motivation and desire to be more, to provide solace when no one else is able to. I wouldn't be here if not for them - whether talking about at this particular place and time in life or being alive at all. I have incredible levels of gratitude towards them for the myriad of ways they've impacted my life and the opportunities I've found through them. So thank you, My Chemical Romance, for helping me through difficult times and for challenging me to be so much more than I ever thought I could be. Thank you for being there for me so that I could get to the point where I liked what I saw when I looked in the mirror. Thank you for encouraging me to take risks and not be afraid to fall. Thank you for letting me admit that sometimes I'm just not okay.