The stage director yelled something about lighting sequence one and three seconds later, blue lasers were shining in my eyes and the band members behind me started playing the intro to the song that was refered to as "the song that will make or break Shadow's career". I opened my mouth to sing and everything went downhill from there.

First, the stage director, Big Dave, forgot to turn on the microphone. Cause he's a genius. Then, my assistant tripped on some wires and spilled coffee on the guitar I just ordered. That pissed me off. After that, my mom came running into the rehearsal room/ warehouse thing shouting that I finally got the interview with some stupid news reporter. And lastly, my brand new Versace dress ripped because I got it stuck in the stage elevator.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?" I heard myself yelling before I could gather all my emotions into something they would take seriously. "WHY CAN'T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT? YOU ARE ALL STUPID! I TOLD YOU WHAT I WANTED AND YOU TURN IT INTO SOMETHING THAT LOOKS LIKE HANNAH MONTANA WOULD DO! I'M LEAVING!"

Everyone stopped as I pushed past the staff backstage on the way to the door. I looked like another teen star diva. Except I'm not. I'm just tired of everyone walking over me and my ideas and how I should be presented. When I signed the contract, it said I had complete control of my image. And now they have me wearing fluffy pink girl dresses on stage and singing almost-country-but-mostly-pop songs. This wasn't what I wanted.

Germany is much more comfortable. Except, I'm kinda famous here too. I don't have to read a lot of German to tell that those trashy magazines are using the photos from my "break down" to trash me and everything they think I am. But they don't know.

The cashier lady said something to me in German and I had no idea what to say. Maybe I should have actually used the Rosetta Stone Mom bought me. When she saw my face she understood who I was (oh no?) then looked back down at whatever she was doing. To my left was a large rack of magazines. Two different magazine companies had my picture on the front HUGE! I grabbed every copy of both the magazines and then walked around the store looking for anymore that might have had me on the cover or even had little articles about how messed up I am. I have a plan now. Though I'm not sure how affective it will be in this little store.

I threw them onto the counter and turned around to grab a purple lighter. Smiling I gave it all to the cashier to ring up. It cost a lot more than I thought it would. But I gave her my stupid debit card anyway. As I walked away, with my plan burning bright in the back of my mind, I shouted, "Danke!" There was some kind of muted reply from somewhere behind me.

And then, from right behind me, came some heavily accented voice of someone I recognized, but had never actually met, "I don't believe what they say about you."