I think the Manic Street Preachers saved my life

[Frigating]

(Incoming wall of text)

Every summer, for the past 6 years (since I was 12) I've had horrible depression, and suicidal thoughts, as a result of being bullied, my looks, and having no friends, among other things. Not sure why it was just the summer. Maybe cause I didn't have school to distract me from my thoughts and flaws. When I was 14 I began cutting myself. The same year, I discovered the Manics, and fell in love instantly. Their gritty, true lyrics and amazing music appealed so much to me when I was in a dark place.

This September, despite (or because of?) school getting harder and taking up more of my time, I didn't get better. I got worse. I was cutting more and more deeply and often, nearly fainting from blood loss at least once. I was focusing more on the fact that I'm 18, but I still haven't achieved even something small. I was becoming obsessed with my weight. I was seriously contemplating killing myself, planning it out. Then I got an email from Eventful (which I can't remember why or when I signed up for) telling me about a wonderful, beautiful, amazing concert, which took place last night in the Olympia. Somehow, I was able to hold on those few months. I figured, I'll be dead eventually anyway, might as well see my favourite band at least once before I go. Friday, I got a horrible panic attack in school, but thought to myself "just wait one more day, then it will be over".

Last night was incredible, and changed me. It was only the second concert I'd ever been to, and the first I hadn't been dragged to by my only friend. This forum, and the "Manics gig attire" thread, inspired me to make an effort. I robbed my sister's leopardprint fedora, dug my own pink leopardprint top out of the wardrobe. I wore eye shadow and nail polish, something I never do (I rather not attract attention to myself. I prefer to hide in the corner). I felt truly beautiful, something else I never do. I hate photos, but asked my dad to take one of me last night before I left the house. I even stopped someone on the stairs down from the circle and asked her to take my photo. That doesn't mean much, but I am without a doubt and sincerely the shiest person in my school. Talking to anybody terrifies me, I rarely even post on forums for that reason.

So how was I able to do it? Because of the amazing sense of community I got from being there. In a restaurant beforehand, I saw someone in a leopardprint top, and thought "I know where you're going. You are like me". In the theatre, I saw people of all ages. 70 year old men, and little 10 year old kids. Men and women and we were all different. To an outsider, nothing united us. But we were brought together that night by a shared love of the Manic Street Preachers. I saw people in sailor suits talking with people in jeans, and that was normal. I looked down into the pit, and I saw one guy with a jacket that read God Is Dead, and I thought "I understand that. I understand you". (And if you're reading this jacket dude, Rock On!) This probably all sounds a little over the top, but it was the first time in my life I've truly felt like I belonged somewhere, like I was the same as everyone around me, like people wouldn't judge me but would respect me.

I went to the merch stand before the show, and I spent more money than I should have, but it was worth it. I got the dog tags, the grey and camo shirts, and the album. I put the tags on immediately, and began absently playing with them, running them through my fingers, almost kissing them. Then I realised with irony I was treating them the same a devoutly religious person would treat rosaries. Putting the name of the album aside, it is a bit like religion isn't it? We came from everywhere to hear what we believe in. And again there's that sense of community. During the show, I was singing along almost all the way, even though I gave up singing years ago. For A Design For Life,we were all standing, the whole audience. I was there with the best (and worst) of them, roaring the words, dancing, punching the air. Me, the girl who sits at the back of the class, refuses to participate, hates drawing attention to herself. I was just part of the crowd.

Last night, at around 1am, I was flipping through the book, admiring it, running my fingers over the vinyl. This morning, I tried on the shirts. They were a bit big, and looked ridiculous on me, but I was finally able to identify what I'd been feeling since the doors had open at 7pm last night. For the first time in far too long, I felt truly happy. I didn't care the shirts didn't fit, I didn't care the tags jingle when I walk. I loved them, and I felt happy.

I don't think this could have happened with any other band. I may be naive and wrong, but I feel like no other band (that I can think of) has as diverse a following as the Manics. We're mental, and we're all different, old and young, but a thread links us, and that thread gave me strength. I'm going to make an effort now. I'm going to try and stop caring what people think, stop obsessing over tiny things, stop trying to avoid the crowd, do what I want. Heck, I'm still wearing the nail polish. I love it, I feel pretty. I'm going to hold onto life, because no matter how bad things get there is that secret community I belong to, the one with the genius music and silly fashion. I can put in my headphones, turn on the Manic Street Preachers, and feel like I'm a part of something, rather than just an outsider. I'm going to stop cutting myself. I'll dig my guitar out and relearn how to play. It'll be hard, but I have hope. I'm going to try.

I understand that this is obviously a very hard time for the band, coming up to 20 years since Richey's tragic disappearance. I know they'll probably never read this, (or that anyone is still reading this) but I just want to say one last thing.

James, Nicky, Sean, and Richey if you're out there: Thank You.