Personal Narrative

Maritza Mata
Mr. Thompson
ENG11A
11 August 2014
Walking Photo Albums
It’s funny to think that nowadays we can upload and share personal photographs for everyone to see, especially those of us with social media. We can click and share, smiling at the screen, pleased with what we see. Personally, I'm no stranger to this. Since I was around the age of 10, I began uploading photos of myself and things that had interested me. Anything from a glass of water I drank to the newest photo of my favorite band instantly became pixels on whatever profile I had at the time. And although some miscellaneous content had made its way onto my online albums, there were still a few that I hold up to great importance.
If you were to look on my eldest sister, Anisha’s

“Yeah,” she said.
At this point, I wasn’t really sure, but only because I never was introduced to the concept of opening acts. Overcoming initial uncertainty, I began to enjoy the show. Singing back to the band when they sang.
Then, after their set was done and the intermission was over, the lights went low once more, and the sound of teenaged vocal chords, though not as loud as last time, rumbled the venue. From the start, I began sobbing and singing at the top of my lungs. They were right in front of me. Singing. Dancing. I was awestruck. Joe wore a white ensemble with his straight hair messy, Kevin wore an all black outfit with gold embellished into the cloth, and I remember one of Nick’s outfits displayed his toned arms in a cloud-colored t-shirt and ebony vest. At one point in the show, Kevin brought out a fire extinguisher and immediately became one of the show’s highlights. Their stage was a tiered, and made up of TV sized screens that popped different colors and patterns. Sweat dripped down my face, mixing with tears, and my hair became unruly in the heat.
“Raise your hand if you’ve ever been through a hard time,” Nick announced during the

Their last song, I think, was “Year 3000” or “S.O.S.” and it was the best thing ever. And when it was over, my sisters and I walked to their tour bus and took pictures. The massive vehicle was, of course, black with their old gold colored emblem. Because of this band, I eventually got into alternative rock and post-hardcore music. Because of them I began wearing a purity ring and writing songs. Though I can’t remember everything about that night, I could still go back to those photos one way or another, look through the scrapbook I stored local newspaper clippings in, and fill in the