I come from a pretty sheltered household. I was raised on gospel music and Sunday school. This is probably why going to my first music festival for spring break in high school felt like such a shocking cultural experience.

I went to the Never Say Never music festival when I was eighteen with one of my friends who first introduced me to metal and hard rock music. Upon arrival, I noticed a group of about five guys running around in a circle at a full on sprint's speed. I was beyond confused.

Little did I know, I was witnessing my first mosh pit. My friend explained to me that there were different kinds and different ways to "mosh"; I had no idea there were multiple ways to run, crash into each other and scream bloody murder. The five guys I saw running around in a circle was called a "circle" or "marathon pit." I found myself amidst a whole new world of rock.

One of the bands my friend was interested in seeing was Asking Alexandria, a hard rock band who was notorious for starting mosh pits during their shows, particularly "the wall of death." The wall of death is when a crowd divides themselves in half and move apart from each other to form a clear path in the middle. The band yells, "NOW!" and both halves of the crowd run at each other at full speed and collide.

About 100 to 200 mosh pit related injuries are reported every year at concerts, shows and festivals. The wall of death has definitely earned it's name. I was thinking to myself how badly I wanted to avoid being in the middle of the wall of death, or any mosh pit for that matter, when I felt a violent tug on one of my extensions.

In the 0.2 seconds it took for me to whip around and yell a couple four letter words at whoever pulled my hair, I was shoved by two extremely sweaty dudes. Oh. My. Gosh.

I'm in the middle of a mosh pit.

Asking Alexandria blared over the speakers, three circle pits had already been formed around me, I lost my friend in the madness, and half of my extensions were now being waved in the air by a guy who looked and smelled like he hadn't showered in a week. It took me about four minutes to strategically bob, dodge and weave my way through the crowd, but it felt like an eternity.

All in all, I had a blast at the festival and I definitely felt like I just gained some 'street cred' for surviving my first mosh pit. However, no level of cool I felt outweighed the fact that I was now covered in dirt, bruises and was missing half of the hair I came in with. It was the most beautiful chaos I've ever found myself in. Mosh on boys and girls.