☀︎ waylon ☀︎

im 15 and standing outside my first hardcore show. I look around at the people waiting to enter, and despite it being febuary and freezing in Seattle, my hands are still clammy. I dont know why.

its packed inside, smells like weed and regret and teenage angst packaged inside a strangers living room. suddenly the clothes i decided to wear feel dumb, it was the most "extreme" thing my mom would let me wear.

then a girl comes up to me, college aged. she smells like cigarettes and cherry, artificial kind. she whispers in my ear and asks if im okay, I look nervous.

she takes my my hand and pulls me to the front of the band so I can see better. her hands are cool.

I told her I liked her makeup, little stars were drawn at the corner of her eyes.

she kisses my cheek then.

she calls me a gentleman.

she straightened my tie.

thats when I knew I think.

that i was destined