I’m well-acquainted with the wide range of emotional reactions I feel after coming back from a concert.
I’ve realized that they follow a certain pattern: the less I’m attached to the artist, the less enjoyable the concert is and the less disappointed I feel after it’s done. On the opposite side of the spectrum, the more I’m attached to an artist, the more enjoyable the concert is and the more disappointed I feel after it’s over.
Let me tell you, I’ve experienced it all, none more poignantly than the insane emotional journey I endured after going to the ATEEZ concert in Hamilton on December 2. I’ll give a brief rundown for non-K-pop fans: ATEEZ is an eight-member Korean pop group that puts out great hype music, performs incredible choreographies and who are overall sweethearts.
As you can probably tell, I’m very attached to them and I’m sure many can relate to the surreal excitement you feel when you buy concert tickets for an artist you’ve loved for a long time.
The day of, I could barely process the fact that these beautiful men whom I’d only seen on my little laptop screen, would be standing in the same room as me in only a few hours. Of course, it was more magical than I could’ve anticipated, so much so that I think I genuinely almost fainted in the middle of my favourite song (“Answer”, for those of you in the know).
At the end of the three-hour show, each member expressed their gratitude to the fans and I can guarantee, there wasn’t a dry eye in the entire venue. I cried while sitting in my seat, I shed a few tears on the way home and I had a full-on meltdown in my room at two in the morning.
These are the sacrifices we make for the things we love. I suppose not all of us get so sentimental or emotionally attached to our music and the people behind it, but for those of us that do tend to be passionately obsessed, I think it’s quite worth it in the end.
The next morning, I woke up early still feeling shaken at having experienced something so powerful and so important to me. It does hurt going back to reality, no matter how much other people may laugh off the seemingly silly affections of our fragile, little hearts.
But I don’t believe we should try to cast away this post-concert sadness.
I look at life as a kind of balancing act: when we experience moments of extreme joy, the scales of the universe will eventually even out and we must experience moments of despair (to use a more dramatic, if not more accurate, term).
I’ve learned that sadness is not only natural but just as valuable as any other emotion; feeling sad means that there are things in life that we care about. Without it, we never recognize what it means to be happy.
I may witness the performers I love in person only a few times in my life, and that’s okay. The joy comes from having the incredible privilege and the opportunity to see them in the first place. There was never any guarantee that it would all be sunshine and rainbows ⏤ as with any deep attachment, there are bound to be some tough moments.
But if you’ve ever gone through or are going through the same cycle of intense emotions as me, know that you will most certainly be okay in the end. And secondly, treasure all that love you have stored up; although it may sometimes be the cause of pain, it ultimately makes everything much more beautiful.