My Chemical Romance broke up during the weekend. For my generation, the generation that was in middle school during the band’s peak, this is (sort of) a tragedy. At least for the kids who did not have inch-thick blonde streaks, Aéropostale T-shirts or friends.
“Being in this band for the past 12 years has been a true blessing,” read a message on the band’s official website. “We’ve gotten to go places we never knew we would. We’ve been able to see and experience things we never imagined possible.”
Like crowds full of 12-year-olds, all of whom are screaming, crying and feeling like each song is a representation of exactly how they feel.
I remember when I heard the song “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” for the first time. I felt like, yes, finally, someone gets it. With lyrics like “I’m not okay, I’m not okay, I’m not okay, you wear me out,” I thought the song was speaking to me. As a 14-year-old with a big nose, small glasses and braces, I felt like they knew me.
I was a true fan, regardless of the fact that I only ever listened to maybe four songs. They wore black (like me), black eyeliner (like me) and had straight black hair (if only I could have afforded hair dye as a 14-year-old. My tyrannical parents didn’t give me an allowance. Not cool, Mom and Dad!).
I would come home after school every day in 7th grade and blast the song “Teenagers” on my brother’s speakers before my parents came home so I wouldn’t get in trouble. I wanted the whole neighborhood to know I was a teenager. It means something to be a teenager, to not be able to make an impact in politics but still make your parents broke by forcing them to buy you straight jeans from Hot Topic.
Oh, Hot Topic. How I loved thee. I thought because they had a shelf full of band T-shirts, chains that clicked onto belt loops and cheap, colored hair extensions that it was the place for kids to seek refuge from the “norm” of society.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized Hot Topic is nothing more than a Hollister store where everything was dyed darker. They sold all the mainstream entertainment such as Twilight and Batman, but sold their faces on a black canvas. I bought my one and only My Chemical Romance shirt from that store for about $20. Overpriced? Yes. Worth it? Meh.
“We’ve shared the stage with people we admire, people we look up to, and best of all, our friends,” read My Chemical Romance’s official website. “And now, like all great things, it has come time for it to end. Thanks for all of your support, and for being part of the adventure.”
Oh, it certainly was an adventure, My Chemical Romance. And thank you for showing me that it was OK to be sad and kind of pissed off all the time.
Jessica Ensley is a sophomore studying journalism at Ohio University and a columnist for The Post. Were you a Hot Topic kid? Email Jessica at je726810@ohiou.edu.
