Bass

I have a problem with relationships and friendships. And I realize that only the best of best things happen to me, through something horrible. I know that sounds really off, but it’s not that easy to explain.

My best friend is a prime example of my logic. I met her in the eighth grade. I was still the new kid at school, having only just started living there a month ago. She was even newer. She walked into the advanced choir class, wearing a Thirty Seconds to Mars shirt. I too was wearing a Thirty Seconds to Mars shirt. My first impression of her? “That bitch has my shirt.” She had to stand next to me because she sang alto, just like me. Every time I wore that shirt, she did too. I would make it a point to wear it almost randomly… but every time we matched. I hated her, and she hated me. Until we found ourselves being adopted into the same clique. Then we clicked, and have been the best of best friends ever since.

It all started with a t-shirt and a ill formed opinion.

My friend Duncan; we had mutual friends. But never really got to know each other. We were eating in Taco Bell, the entire group. (Mind you it was a large group of us) and I made a bet with my best friend, the one with the t-shirt. That I could throw my trash across the restaurant and into the trash. She told me if I missed that a friend we referred to as Jesus had to slap me in the face. I agreed and missed the shot. Jesus didn’t want to slap me, said it would be wrong. Duncan stepped up and offered. Now, I’d never actually hung out with him. But it was on this day that he looked like a black version of Satan, wearing a red suit and tie. I found out later that it was for a school play he was in.

Duncan slapped me so hard it knocked my glasses off my face and across the table. I had a bruise on my cheek the next day and a busted lip.

We’ve been best friends ever since.

Is my point proven yet? Things that are good for me, usually start really badly.

I was about ten years old when I found my favorite band. I had never heard of them, but I was at a festival so chilling out and rocking to a band I didn’t know just seemed cool to me. I was also ten- most ten year old girls are also disgusted by the thought of smelling like sweat and dirty rock-star. I always was a bit strange.

Avenged Sevenfold, they called themselves. It was a kick ass show. I was rocking the fuck out. The bassist, Johnny Christ, started it all for me. He seemed like the reason I had this bad start and great ending thing. He’s my hero, my imaginary best friend, my favorite person in the entire world, and I’ve never even met him.

But that day, he threw a beer bottle off the stage, because it was a hot summer day and who was it going to hurt? Now, I’m not going to lie, I was the one to get hurt. It hit me in the head, I got a minor concussion. A ten year old girl rolling out of the pit with a concussion because the bassist nailed her in the temple. It doesn’t even sound half way believable. But true story, bro.

They’ve been my favorite band ever since.