What Built from Love

By Yin Nwe Ko


WHEN we get there, the area is crowded with teens and youths. As soon as I set my foot on the ground and glance around, I know we are among the strangers who will never take notice of our presence. We set forth toward the entrance. All are looking forward to viewing the stage.


The sun is setting, the lights are getting brighter, smoke fills the stage, and thousands of teenage girls are screaming as they have waited months for this moment. It feels like I’ve been standing here, waiting forever. My anticipation reaches its peak, only to be interrupted by the speakers blasting as my favourite band walks on stage. The screaming is only getting louder; I can barely hear what song is playing. My sister and I turn to look at each other, smiling and crying, knowing it was worth waiting years to experience this exact moment together. We can’t believe four of our favourite people are real and standing right before us. I start to open my eyes, holding my concert ticket, as I snap back into reality. Every time I look back at my concert ticket, it brings me back to the happiest day of my life.


It is a Thursday afternoon in the middle of July. The sun is painting the sky pink and orange. There is a breeze heavy enough to blow my hair over my shoulder. The bass from the speakers is so loud that it feels like it is pumping through my body. My sister stands in the middle between me and her boyfriend. We are surrounded by thousands of complete strangers. Everyone in the arena is separated from each other by many rows with specified seats for each person. Behind me, there is a wide concrete path dividing my seated section from the lawn section. Even though I am surrounded by strangers, I feel the most comfortable I have ever felt, due to the vibes shared amongst all of us. Each person is standing up as tall as they can, trying to get the best view possible. This makes it hard to see, causing constant movement left and right in the crowd.


As the last note of the final song is played, everyone starts screaming as loud as they can. Each member of the band makes their way to the centre of the stage, placing their arms behind each other’s backs. Their unsynchronized bow only encourages the screams to get louder. Disbelief runs through my body as I try to comprehend the past two hours of my life. Each band member takes their own path to head off the stage, waving goodbye to all of the fans. Tears start to run down my face once again. A handful of people quickly make their way to the aisles, trying to beat the traffic. I am not a part of that group. My feet feel like they are cemented into the ground. I don’t want to leave just yet — I am staying in this moment for as long as I can


in on the two-hour drive home. My eyes are getting heavier every second, due to the built-up exhaustion from a long day. Light raindrops hit the front windshield, making peaceful noises. I fight to stay awake, but I am too weak to hold my eyelids open. For what has felt like five minutes is actually two hours. My sister parks her car in the driveway for me to get out. I sluggishly grab my bags from the back seat and make my way inside the front door, still half-asleep. My energy decreases with every step I take up the stairs. I turn the light on as I walk into my room, but it is too bright for my eyes. My immediate reaction is to blink quickly to try to readjust. All I want to do is toss myself into bed and fall back asleep. I slowly crawl into bed and lay my head on my pillow. Even though I feel like I could sleep for 12 hours, I can’t help but grab my phone from my pocket to look back at videos from the night. I find myself smiling and softly singing along to every word of every song. As I swipe to the last picture, I look at the clock and it reads 4:15 am. I set my phone down because I can’t believe I let myself stay up this late. Before I even had time to wrap myself in a blanket, I was out for a good night’s sleep.


If I was told at 10 years old that my sister and I went to a concert and had arguably the best night of our lives together, I wouldn’t have believed it. My sister is someone I wasn’t very fond of when I was younger. As we grew up, we matured, and we developed a stronger connection with each other that I don’t have with anyone else. Everyone calls us twins, though we were born four years apart. Not only do we look alike, we act as similar as twins do. She may make jokes in almost every situation, but deep down she really does care for what I have to say. Throughout my middle school years, she was the person I could always depend on, my rock. No matter what I ask her to do, she will try to find a way to satisfy my wants. I don’t see her just as my sister but as my best friend, too.


I owe the best night of my life to my sister — she was and still is my role model. If I didn’t want to be like her when I was in middle school, I never would have been a fan of the band we saw in concert together. I would secretly listen to a select few songs from the band just so I could sing along with her if she played them when I was around. The night of the concert isn’t only a good memory because it was my first concert, but because it reminds me of the connection and love I share with my sister. I am forever grateful that we overcame our hatred for each other as kids. We matured into young adults and realized that we have each other as built-in, lifelong best friends.

Reference: Teen Ink Feb 2023