“So long live the car crash hearts, cry on the couch, all the poets come to life, fix me in forty-five.”-Fall Out Boy

I’d  hoped that maybe, after these few years,  I’d finally moved on. I’d hoped that I could look at old pictures and watch old interviews and listen to old records without the sudden, heady rush of nostalgia knocking me senseless.

Fall Out Boy is quite possibly my favorite band, followed by The Beatles. I don’t remember when it was, exactly, but my two closest friends and I discovered that we were in love with Fall Out Boy, and from then on, everything moment that we shared was fueled by the band. To this day, I can listen to any album and become immediately overwhelmed with memories. Every amazing moment in my middle childhood, it seems, has a Fall Out Boy song playing in the background. Road trips to and from the Pocanoes in the backseat of someone’s car, screaming Take This To Your Grave. Annual treks to Ocean City blasting From Under The Cork Tree. Scrambling onto picnic tables in the middle of the night at a campground, dancing to Infinity On High. 

I didn’t know what it was about them then, and even now, I still don’t know. I think that, perhaps, it was the sense of family. Growing up with Fall Out Boy meant listening to My Chemical Romance, memorizing the lyrics to Panic! At The Disco, watching videos of Cobra Starship, discovering The Cab and Gym Class Heroes, and slowly falling in love with Paramore and Hey Monday. Everything just felt okay then, and I guess that’s all that I could have asked for. For a short time, everyone was making music and were too busy goofing off to fight. Panic! was still together, Paramore was still whole, and, most importantly, Fall Out Boy was still stealing golf carts and making stupid videos. Everything was right in the world.

It happened in stages. What A Catch, Donnie came out as a single, effectively summing up Fall Out Boy’s career. Rumors flickered in the mosh pit and caught fire on Twitter. Believers Never Die was released. I think we all knew then. They tried to reassure us; reminded us that a greatest hits album didn’t mean it was the end. And we believed them. We still believe them.

It’s been hard without the promise of new music at least once a year. But I have my memories; like the time my friends and I watched Live In Phoenix in its entirety twice a day for five days straight  on vacation, or the day we saw them in Philadelphia. It’s hard to let go. Every now and then I get swept up in a little wave of nostalgia, and I wait it out. Growing up with Fall Out Boy was incredible. The days and people and events that made me who I am are wrapped up in those records. Every now and then, you can hear them whisper.

Believers never die.

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