I stepped in the door and breathed in the musky, metallic smell of the smoke from the fog machine. Ah, I'm home.

Of course, it wasn't really home, but the sights and smells were so predictably familiar, and my actual home was just a house, not a home, so yes, I do consider this to be home.

My tight, black jeans clung to my legs and my red and black plaid shirt flowed over a tight black tank top. My red converse were dirt stained and falling apart from over use and my black, spiky dog collar felt just right around my neck.

I fought my way closer to the front, getting shoved around already and the band wasn't even on stage yet. I stood close to the stage as the band came on. The spiky haired, tightly clothed, emo lead singer boy winked at me and tossed his guitar strap over his shoulder.

He screamed something into the microphone and everyone screamed back. As they started playing, there was a lot of screaming and jumping and shoving as the crowd turned into a wild, dancing mosh pit.

I saw a few new comers looking scared and getting pushed around nervously. I had been coming to this place so long, I couldn't even remember my first time.

The amps blared loudly into the ears of the crowd. I screamed in happiness as my favorite song of the local band's played. I was like a sickly twisted version of a happy little girl.

This place strangely reminded me of a newer, better place in a show I had watched. I think it was 21 Jumpstreet. This place looked a little cleaner and looked a little bit less hardcore punk rocker than the movie, but it was equally as great.


I am Alice. Welcome to my Wonderland.