MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE! and.... HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARMAND!!!!
It really was fucking awesome…minus the horrible experience of near-death-from-suffocation. We arrived quite late due to a certain someone’s (cough cough, Darma, cough) lateness and persuasion for us to wait for him. Alas, my threatens of throwing him in a giant human blender did not quicken his pace; much too slow for any teenager that’s excited for a concert. We finally got in with a flash of our tickets and a quick patting down to check no bombs were stuck on us. It was already packed inside (on the floor, not the disgustingly, peeling bleachers) and I had to bite my lip to swallow back a mumble of curses at the early arrivals.
We sat, we stood, we sat, we stood again. The reason for this ridiculously tedious behaviour is the stupid, fake, annoying, frustrating hoots that suddenly erupt amongst the crowd (The middle-front part was already jammed and people littered at the back) that totally would get you going at least the first time…maybe even second. Pretty soon you’d be screaming out “Shut the fuck up!” and “Fuck you all!” so on and so forth, it really was quite a lovely crowd. When it did start I was stuck in between bodies that quite literally dragged me into the moving-forward surge in everyone’s attempt to get a closer standing spot. Darma and I had to latch on to each other’s arm (one chaining the other) in order not to get separated in the much vigorous throng of bodies. You really did have to elbow and butt back or you’d get pummeled. Despite my attempts to fight back, in the end I felt violated and abused. I felt sick. Disgusted. Putrid. Marred, Bruised, Molested. It was like a free grope fest for horny guys. (It got as bad as more than fifty (?) people being pulled out of the throng…and it got to a point that two strangers on different occasions rescued me from the tight wedge of heat-emitting bodies and asking if I was alright in a concerned tone and face) Honestly! It’s really that bad! At first I was worried that I’d either be trampled on or have my cell phone or camera or money be stolen from me but after that first touch I was more worried for my body. Someone molested my waist, someone more-or-less hugged me, and someone grabbed my ass. Yes…my definitely-far-from-hot ass. The person was either really desperate to look for a cheap feel or doing it to everyone else. In that jam-packed moment I couldn’t even swivel around to look at the guilty face! All I could do was mutter out “Oh God…help me.”. The only positive thing I could get out of that was at least no one grabbed the ones in front….someone did elbow it though. I was also stuck in a mosh-pit that suddenly started around me. It was like being thrown about like a rag doll, you seriously can’t stand your ground with teenage males gushing out Niagara sweat-falls and BO slamming you about. I yelped quite a bunch of times. Darma saved me maybe four times or more…I felt bad for being dependant on him, I pratically felt like a child (but I reimbursed his deeds with a McDonalds treat).
But despite the horrid concert floor experience, the concert rocked! (We actually got real close to the front though we lost Dhika in the crowd) If anyone wants crappy pictures I’ll be happy to provide. Mikey Way was hot! In the flesh he was hotter…Gerard seems to have grown some weight (I have a few pictures of h im with quite the noticeable bump of a belly), and Ray……no comment, still don’t really like the hair but thank God Mikey grew his hair!
I washed all the gropings off my body as soon as I got home. I scrubbed and scrubbed till my skin was near to red-raw, I felt like trash (Darma said he too felt like trash for he drank from the offered bottle which more or less has been shared by many and also because he may have licked someone’s sweat in the confusion). Soaking wet from both the rain and sweat, I had stumbled inside my house (the door held open by my quite amused father) and crawled into the bathroom where I proceeded to literally peel off my clothes to get under the cold blast of water that got a squeal out of me.
It’s half past one…. Oh, I’m so tired… Mentally and physically. I don’t want nightmares of gropes and molestations though…I’d rather dream of the greatly distorted picture of that person. He’s still able to give me that twinge in my chest and get me deliriously and suddenly happy. I want to stay skeptical about him so that I won’t be disappointed or crushed but I can’t seem to stop. Shit shit shit. How is one person able to get you so happy or so depressed with minimal actions and words? The person who made the quote “Ignorance is a bliss” has either got to be damn-straight sarcastic or simply demented…or a masochist. It’s not a bliss. It isn’t…but then again…it’s quite true that happiness kind of lies in the heart of discomfort.
I’m moving rooms
Envelopes mean you have extra tickers
Buying posters after the concert’s a rip off but you do so anyway
Next time wear something sharp so that no one comes near
Get to concerts early
I have school tomorrow
I have a fucking chemistry quiz to fail tomorrow
I’m really tired and sleepy but I can’t sleep
I miss someone I tantalize myself with
Guilt waits just around the corner if a certain event should occur
Turns out I’m definitely not a good girl
I got a “free” poster from someone that can only be described as “Bego”
Mikey Way is really hot
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