When my colleagues are playing their k-pop and all things thereabout loud in the office, I put in my earphones and blast the rock, dreaming of smoky mosh pits, cheap alcohol and salty kisses. Blues rock and roll for those with holes in their souls, cigarettes to help us die young and cheap alcohol to maybe seep out the holes in our souls. Everything is black and white here coal hands and hot lights over the bands in black. Boys with messy hair and nose rings and girls with red lips and hearts so tight shut it would take the piercing light of only the Almighty to come in and shatter its locks and chains. We all know we are sinking deeper, we only feel alive because we know we are killing ourselves. Still we hope that maybe we can make our homes here because we want to die young, we have never been taught how to be old and we don’t know what we want, only what we vehemently don’t want. The dreams of our childhood have lost their shine and everything seems a whole lot more gray than the easy questions our textbooks demanded from us for years. In our twenties and still we don’t know who we are yet. The frontman in his black t-shirt and black skinnys sings how his heart is so heavy it could burn a hole through the floor, he makes eye contact with four girls throughout the set but sings only to himself. They don’t care, he doesn’t care because right now we are all smoky mosh pits, cheap alcohol and salty kisses.