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twloha:

“City of Devils”
Yellowcard

“And I wonder how things gonna be
As the time here, it passes so slow”

Until this past month, I lived in the same city for nineteen years: Madison, Wisconsin. I went through elementary school, middle school, and high school there, and when college rolled around, I stayed. So I never had the typical moving-away-from-home college experience. When people asked why I stayed, I answered honestly: “It’s a great school and I don’t see myself going anywhere else.” I loved it, staying in the same place. I always told people that if I hadn’t been raised in Madison, I would live there for the rest of my life. I was a local. I was comfortable. I thought I belonged.

The thing with Madison is that it’s known for being a liberal bubble in the middle of the right-wing vastness that is Wisconsin. Growing up in a conservative home and going to school and working in very liberal environments numbed me. The two strong sides of the political scale evened me out, but more specifically made me indifferent. I kept my opinions to myself. I didn’t want to be told that what I thought was wrong or unacceptable. I didn’t want to be judged for not “understanding” issues, topics, and politics (which really meant not agreeing with one side or another).

And then I learned to keep other things to myself, not just opinions. Thoughts, emotions, experiences, I hoarded them away. I feared judgment. I hated feeling like I was burdening others with my baggage, my weight, my struggles, especially when everyone was clearly struggling with their own troubles and messes. I thought if I kept my issues to myself, I could persevere, stay strong and save the world on my own; without empathy, without support, without help. I became so numb with my thought processes, that it became normal to bite my tongue when I disagreed. It was normal to cry alone. It was normal to not have answers.

“And you can’t see the sky here at night
So I guess I can’t make my way back”

I felt trapped, but numbly comfortable—too comfortable, complacent even. I was struggling to see what was right and what was wrong. I was comfortable with keeping silent. I was comfortable with my indifference. I was comfortable being encased in a city filled with people who were slowly smothering me. I had been there too long.

“And I
can’t tell right from wrong.
And why have I been here so long?”

I knew I needed to get out. I needed to breathe. I needed to learn to not feel worried about being criticized. I needed to rip myself free from these roots that started to strangle me. And then I realized, I can’t save myself here. I can’t change myself here.

This song reminds me of those times, when I felt stuck. When I felt like I was in too deep. When I felt like I was alone in a crowded room. But it also reminds me of the times when I knew that I didn’t want to stay. I didn’t want to be complacent. I didn’t want to remain numb. I didn’t have to—I could change it.

At the end of the day, I’m grateful for having grown up in Madison. I had amazing friends, glorious experiences, and I have a place that I will always call home. But I’m also grateful because while the city and the devils in it brought me down at times, it taught me how to remain strong and resilient. I will not remain numb. I don’t want to be numb again.

—Jeung Hwa
Fall 2011 Intern

I have never related so well to something…