(LOTS of “colorful” language.)
Six months to the day, I “died”. And six months to the day, my life went down hill. But it’s not all bad. No, no. I guess the bright side is I found out who my real friends are. I also found out who really loved me for me, and not the image I was promoting. Alright. Enough with the inner monologue. See that on girl the stage? The one with the cherry red hair and black lipstick? The one in black fishnets, black shorts and a plaid shirt? The one who has her purple guitar in one hand, and her middle finger up with the other? Her name is Samantha Autumn Chaos. That girl is me.
“Fuck you, hater!” I screamed in the face of a stupid looking hipster with a jacked up hair cut. That’s right. I stereotype. So what? Fucking sue me.
He was trying to talk shit to my band because I’m the guitarist. So what if I’m a girl? Call me cocky but I’m pretty sure I could out play Jake Pitts and Jack Vincent. AT THE SAME TIME. I might not be the least judgmental people on this earth, but everyone is so damn sure that I’m going to awful. Because of what? Because of what’s between my legs? Fucking bullshit.
“Shut the fuck up and Mosh before I come down there and kick your hipster ass!” I yelled at him again because he wouldn’t stop talking shit. Now he has the nerve to try to unplug my guitar from the amp? Bitch please! I slammed my boots down on his skinny fingers, crushing them into the stage like a used cigarette. I leaned down on my knee to get in his face, my foot still on his fingers. “Say something else. I fucking dare you.”
Someone threw a water bottle at our singer and that was it. “Oh hell no.” I have fucking had it with these stupid ass people. Mess with me? I’ll cruse you out all fucking day. Mess with my friends? You’re ass is grass. I dropped my guitar and dove into the crowd swinging.
I know you’re wondering if I’m stupid, or if I’m just a hardcore bitch. Well, it’s a little bit of both. Not to mention I don’t give a rats ass about bruises, cuts, broken bones or dying. One thing I am afraid of…love. Now that, that scares the ever living shit out of me.
Yes. This is another big ass cliché about a stupid girl getting her heart broken. But I highly doubt that you’ve heard a story like mine. So let’s start from the beginning, shall we?
Six months and one day ago, my life was perfect. Despite the last name the last name, Samantha Chaos was a “good girl”. You know what I mean. The blonde haired, blue eyed, cheerleader? The star athlete, straight A student, had great friends, Hollister was my favorite store, I wore heels everyday and my parents had a shit ton of money. Not to mention my prefect boyfriend of eight months, Caleb. I was going into my senior year and I had it all. Everything was going my way, my life was perfect and all that good shit.
Any fucking way, I was driving home from the mall when out of no where, a huge 18 wheeler knocks me clear off the rode. I slammed into a tree, almost died, blah blah blah. It was bad. I was rushed to the hospital. I had a bunch of broken bones, internal bleeding, and a whole lot of other stuff that I don’t want to get in to. I was, for lack of better wording, pretty fucked up.
My parents showed up, and somehow, there was a very big misunderstanding between them and my best friend. Suddenly, everyone I knew thought I was dead. Three weeks later, I get out of the hospital and find all my friends no longer cared about me, or the fact that I’m alive. And worst of all…Caleb found someone better and he no longer wanted anything to do with me. Now me being the dumb ass drama queen I was, I started drinking. My grades went wayyyy down, I stopped cheerleading and started moshing. I traded in her heels for VANS. My blonde hair turned cherry red. Oh, and my squeaky clean reputation? That’s dust in the fucking wind.
I was at rock bottom with Jace found me. Literally. Like, I’d fallen off a goddamn cliff because I was high. I owe Jace my life. Not only did he help me stop drinking and clean myself up, but he also showed me the right way to get out my anger. Through music and moshing. Not by drinking and smoking. Even though we still do that. Just not as much, and I know when enough is enough.
So now you know why I am how I