Four Anthems That Got Me Through My 20s (And Still Do)
Because some soundtracks evolve with you, and some never change
Last weekend, I saw My Chemical Romance for the fifth time. Yes, fifth.
It was the final stop of their Long Live the Black Parade tour, where they played The Black Parade in its entirety—and if you’ve never screamed “I am not afraid to keep on living” in a crowd of 70,000 people, you don’t know what you’re missing.
The last time I saw MCR, I was in my late 20s, teaching public school in Miami—six classes a day, 30+ kids in each, sometimes no break period—for a whopping salary of $36k. Yes, I’m serious. I was broke, exhausted, eating ramen for dinner most nights, and wondering if adulthood was just one long disappointment. I was angry a lot, and I didn’t know where to put it. So, I put it into music.
Most of those songs should’ve aged out with my side bangs and AIM away messages. But some didn’t. Some anthems survived.
Here are four of them.
1. Famous Last Words, My Chemical Romance
This was my anthem. I was barely keeping it together: trying to figure out how to teach Shakespeare to a roomful of distracted teenagers, drowning in a never-ending pile of grading, running almost entirely on caffeine, nicotine,* and bitterness. My relationships were struggling or non-existent and my bank account was empty. The lyrics are overwrought but so was I. Seeing this live again at age 45 was extremely cathartic. Life isn’t nearly that rough anymore, but it’s still life and the sentiment still stands—and maybe that’s why it hits just as hard. Because even when things aren’t as scary, there’s still something powerful about shouting that you’re not afraid to keep going.
*don’t worry, I quit smoking 15 years ago
2. Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year, Fall Out Boy
The thing about being the same age as Pete Wentz is that I went through all his quarter-life crises right alongside him. This is a song about getting older, feeling like an imposter, wondering if you’ve already peaked, and holding onto nostalgia because you’re afraid of what’s next. In other words, it was exactly how I felt at the time. My life wasn’t where I thought it would be as I approached 30, and it took me a long time to come to terms with that. Listening now, the lyrics feel different—not less true, but less overwhelming. The fear and self-doubt that come with aging don’t go away exactly, but they do become easier to carry. And there’s something comforting about knowing they’re universal.
3. Existentialism on Prom Night, Straylight Run
This song is about how even if you know life is mostly crap and the future is a giant question mark, there are still moments of pure joy that break through and make you feel grateful and alive—even just for a second. It’s very Stephen Chbosky “and in that moment I swear we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower (a book that also spoke to me at the time). John Nolan urging you to sing like you think no one’s listening. Trite? Sure. But it hits you right in the feels anyway. Listening now, I hear it less as teen melodrama and more as truth: life is uncertain, often disappointing, but the fleeting moments of joy are what make it worth carrying on.
4. Thrash Unreal — Against Me!
Sometimes you don’t need a metaphor—you just need to scream. This song gave me that outlet. It didn’t matter that the lyrics weren’t even remotely close to my life; the sheer energy was the release I needed. I saw Against Me! a handful of times back before Laura Jane Grace transitioned—usually at summer festivals, usually in the pouring rain. There was something cleansing about it, like shouting along could wring out everything I couldn’t say. And even now, it’s fun to yell driving in my car until my throat hurts. This one is a snapshot of a very specific moment in time—probably for the band as much as for me—but it’s also a moment you can recapture, every single time you hit play. Some songs evolve with you, and some just stay the same. This one never changed, and maybe that’s why I still love it.
In our 20s, my best friend and I would drive up to Tampa for a concert on the day of—straight to the show, and then either crash in the cheapest hotel we could find or just drive the 4.5 hours back home because we didn’t want to pay for a room at all. We had the energy back then, but also the desperate need for live music, an outlet, a release.
This time, we drove up a day early. Stayed in a hotel fancy enough to hand you complimentary wine at check-in. Ate a leisurely brunch at The Oxford Exchange (highly recommend!) and spent the afternoon wandering through historic Tampa neighborhoods before heading to the stadium. Afterward, we slept in our bougie hotel again before driving home.
It was a completely different experience—slower, more comfortable. But when MCR launched into Famous Last Words, I still cried. Some things evolve with you, and some just never change.
Here’s the video my best friend took of the performance while I was too busy scream-crying to hold my phone.