To me, there is nothing more exhilarating than standing in the midst of an adrenalized crowd, and listening to your idols breathe perfection into amps less than five feet away.

The other fans around you don’t leave a lot of breathing room but that somehow makes everything more transcendent, more surreal.

You don’t even have to try and support yourself on your own two feet — the sheer proximity of the sea of people keeps you afloat, and there isn’t even any space to sink.

Continuing the metaphor, your spirits are truly, unfalteringly buoyant.

For the past six months, I’ve been waiting for one day. That day was Sunday, May 12th, and it held the last show of Spring Fever —  a month-long tour by alternative headliners Pierce the Veil and All Time Low and supporting acts Mayday Parade and You Me At Six. The 25 dates spanned the United States and culminated in one final, extravagant concert at the Warfield in San Francisco.

After the tickets officially sold out earlier in the year, I gave up hope of ever finding enough money stashed away to pay for one of the overpriced Stubhub tickets I was not-so-secretly yearning for.

With a stroke of luck, however, my mom somehow got my birthday present 200% correct, and in February I was the proud owner of two 8 ½ by 11 inch sheets of paper: tickets to what I thought was going to be one of the best concerts I’d ever been to.

At the beginning of this week, when I excitedly showed my friends photos of the show, more often than not they responded with a sarcastic ‘Wow, that sounds like so much fun!’ and casually diverted the conversation.

I was appalled. The point of the experience (well, mine at least) was the complete apathy to everything other than immediate surroundings, when all you can see is flashing lights and you’re in the process of going deaf before twenty because you’re standing right next to 10 foot tall speakers.

And you’re witnessing people right in front of you (they’re not even celebrities at this point), real people doing what they love and living their dream. In a sort of vicarious way, this euphoria transmits itself to the audience, and, although transient, is a passion unlike any other.

Granted, those specifics always vary. Not everyone enjoys the same things, and there are obviously tons of people who feel stuffy or dehydrated or faint during concerts. It’s not about the tangible event — it’s about experiencing the full spectrum of human emotion, and pushing those limits to find out what you’re truly passionate about. Everyone should be able to say that they’ve felt like they reached the upper boundary of happiness.

Just think about it: there’s no way anyone can be free from the psychological restraints of trivial, everyday issues if they don’t try to unshackle themselves.

Once in a while, we should take the time to see past the things that ruin our mornings, afternoons, and evenings to those that could enhance our entire lives. Whether the aforementioned eye-opening ‘things’ are attending concerts or climbing trees or re-watching Arrested Development, there should always be a reasonable amount of time allocated to exploring your personality and the potentials of your life.

And honestly, for all the occurrences of ‘carpe diem’ in English class, I’ve met very few people that live by it.