Cherrypicked stories

Elbows jabbed my side and other feet crushed mine. Beer was flying through the air, dampening my hair and sweat soaked through my clothes. I was in heaven. I worked my way up to the front of the mosh pit, my feet never touched the ground as the sea of bodies helped me drift slowly to the guardrail in front of the stage. Once there, I gripped onto the rail and craned my neck up to face the band. I couldn't hear myself even though I was screaming along with them so loudly, that by the end of their set, I had a voice that was equivalent to a hot breeze through the desert. The bass matched the beat of my heart, and the music was no longer coming to me, but coming from me. I felt it with every inch of my being and although my ribs were being bruised by the mass of people behind me pushing me against the fence. As the last chord sang through the air, my heart and soul sang with it.