I went to the Lady Gaga concert alone. First concert I’ve ever gone to. I thought it was going to be exciting, maybe even healing. I was wrong.
Somewhere halfway through the night, I just broke down. I started thinking about them. About how they used to help me in crowds, how I never had to figure it out alone before. And suddenly, I felt really small and really lost in a sea of people. Not because the crowd was scary, but because I didn’t have that person anymore. It hit me harder than I expected.
I cried when I got home. And not because my feet hurt—though they did. But because I realized I still miss them. I thought I was past it. Guess I’m not.
Today I keep seeing videos of the concert on TikTok and it stings. Not in a dramatic way. Just a dull ache. The kind that reminds you that even if you’re doing fine most days, you’re still carrying something.
But I don’t want to hate the memory. I still love Lady Gaga. I don’t want the whole night to be about sadness. It wasn’t all bad. I just felt a lot. More than I expected.
I guess that’s it. There’s no neat ending. I went. I cried. I’m still sad. But I survived it. That’s all.
