The Good Old Days

Every fucking Friday night. The sing a longs. The pit. The stage dives. The finger pointing. $5 admission, Air Maxes laced up tight, my favorite band T-shirt underneath a Champion hoodie. I used to wake up every day before school and listen to my favorite record as loud as my speakers could play and scream along to every single word. When you would fall down in the pit before you could pick yourself up there would be arms all around you lifting you back up, that was what hardcore what all about. Loosing yourself and going absolute apeshit.