I originally wrote this piece for a college admission essay, and while that is still what it started out as, it developed into something much more. A retrospective of my journey throughout the past year.

Holocene by Bon Ivor, it was written by the band’s front man, Justin Vermon, and it is one of their most popular songs. I’ve probably heard it over a thousand times by now. It’s a great track. It’s not my favorite track by Bon Ivor, or at least it wasn’t. To be honest, I really don’t know anymore. What I do know is that this past summer, this song changed for me. For nearly 10 years, it was just a chill 3rd track on an album that I enjoyed, but this past summer, it started to mean something. What’s weird is I could see its new meaning form right in front of me; I didn’t even need hindsight to show that something had shifted. In a matter of minutes, it went from being just a song to being a memento of a very strange time in my life. I should give some context first; this summer has been a bit of a struggle for me. I was planning to move and change my career as a bookkeeper in New Jersey, to joining the world’s most powerful Navy, which was bittersweet, as it meant leaving a lot of people I love and a city that I have grew up in nearly for a decade. I had no idea what I wanted to do professionally, but I was pretty sure the career I had spent the previous 4 years perusing would just lead to me to being miserable. I wanted to enjoy my last few months in New Jersey, but between worrying about what was next and preparing for boot camp, I felt like I was missing time that I could not afford to miss. I was annoyed, sad, angry and scared. All of us have expectations for where we will be at in certain points of our lives. Sometimes those expectations stem from goals we set for ourselves, but a lot of the time, they are based around when other people accomplished those things. It's arbitrary, but it’s hard pressure not to feel. A year earlier, I thought I had those things figured out. I had answers to the typical questions asked by real adults and while I certainly felt like an imposter, on paper at least, I thought I had achieved the things I was supposed to have achieved by that point in my life. I wanted so badly to feel that sense of being on track again, but I didn’t really know what I could do to get there. Living in the moment seemed impossible because I had this unshakable sense that I needed to catch up. That I needed to know what was next. As is common for me, I was in my head, and struggled with breaking out of that loop.

The day I left RTC was filled with mixed emotions on the bus ride to the airport. Tyler, someone who I became close friends with, told me If a group of us wanted to go Millennium Park To see a concert in Chicago. It was going to be our last time together as we all lived at completely different parts of the country. I said “yes” and a group of us headed to downtown Chicago. The trip reminded me of ones my friends and I used to take in college. The ones where we were free from any real responsibilities and able to just be. We walked the city making our plans as we went along, we talked passionately about things that didn’t really matter, like how disappointing we found the ending of Game of Thrones, or at least I did. We lived in the moments we were in, instead of being concerned about what next week, next month or next year could bring. It was a weekend filled with those small little moments of tremendous importance that we almost always take for granted. Moments that are really easy to look past. The one that stuck with me the most and is why I'm saying any of this, happened at the actual show. During the set, Justin Vermon asked everyone in the audience if they felt safe. And despite it just being some simple crowd work, in that moment, I realized that I hadn’t felt safe in months. With the move, with the uncertainty, the discharge, I felt like I was on the edge of disaster all the time. I felt like at any moment, I could collapse into ruin. And I don’t really know why, but when they started playing Holocene, that tight coil of fear, frustration, sadness and anger loosened. Something in me unwound, and it felt like I had finally let out a breath after months of holding one in. As I listened to it then, the warm breeze of a perfect summer night easing across my neck, with the sound of thousands of strangers singing the same words I was, and with the friends I would soon leave in the city I’d be leaving too, it went from being just a song, to being a memory. A memory of that night, a memory of that weekend, a memory of a time where I felt so uncertain but found some peace regardless. That night, it didn’t matter that so many things in my life were uncertain. I just enjoyed that moment. And I understand that it shouldn’t be this hard to accept that it is okay to step back and enjoy the present, even when everything feels so messy, but it is, and sometimes I need a reminder. Obviously hearing Holocene that one time didn’t solve all my worries. The reality is nothing will. Learning to live with my anxiety is something I rediscover on a near constant basis because the more times I do, the more tools I have. And now this song is one of them. It reminds me of a time where I felt safe, and when I hear it now, something in me unwinds. Even if only for a moment.

Hello, my name is Luke
Yes that is me in my Profile picture
I live in New Jersey

My favourite video games are Mafia Classic, Mafia II, Final Fantasy XV, COD Infinite Warfare & Assassin's Creed Unity (The Last Real Assassin's Creed Game)
Favourite multiplayer games are Battlefield and Modern Warfare
Favourite co-op game is Black Ops 3 Zombies/Custom maps
Favourite movies are Stand By Me, Flipped, Casino, and A Bronx Tale
Favourite TV shows are The Twilight Zone (The original with the legend himself Rod Serling.), On My Block and 11.22.63.
Favourite songs- Stairway to Heaven By Led Zepplin, That's Life By Frank Sinatra, Lighters by Bad Meets Evil and Modern loneliness by Lauv, to name a few
I play Call of duty and Battlefield a lot so add me if you want to play