Who the Hell Am I?

I’m Carter. 17. London-born, sadly America-located. I make loud entrances and louder mistakes. I’m not here to be normal. I play guitar (badly), skate (kinda), and I live off energy drinks, sarcasm, and vibes. I talk a lot, and half of it’s probably lies, but who’s counting?

I’m straight, male, and way too hot to be humble about it.

Pronouns: He/Him

Star sign: Libra, which probably explains everything.

Personality Check (Self-diagnosed, obviously)

Good stuff: I’m funny, spontaneous, and apparently “charismatic” (whatever that means). People either wanna be me or punch me. I consider both compliments.

Neutral stuff: I’m intense and kind of a chaos muppet. My brain’s like a rock concert in a blender.

Bad stuff: I'm impulsive, loud, and probably a menace. Not gonna lie, I get jealous fast and think with my middle finger. Not super proud of that.

Interests & Other Obsessions

• Guitars (I’m always carrying one like I’m about to serenade a riot)
• Sex (what? it counts)
• Bad horror movies
• Music that makes my gran cry
• Smoking (sorry, not sorry)
• Being around people 24/7 because I hate being alone
• Street cats
• Glow sticks
• Parties that start fights or end in tears (preferably both)
• Clicky pens I can annoy teachers with

Bands I’ll fight you over:

Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, MCR, Green Day, IDKHOW, The Mountain Goats, Nirvana, Cockney Rejects, Lovejoy, Weezer, Mother Mother
(Yes, I have taste. No, I won’t shut up about it.)

Stuff That Sucks

• Spiders (NOPE.)
• Being short (shut up.)
• Maths (literal hell)
• Hospitals
• Being alone
• America’s idea of tea. Just… no.
• People mocking my voice/accent
• Waiting (for anything. instant or die.)

Looks ‘n Style

I’m 1.73m but it’s the rage that makes me taller. Tanned. Got black curly hair I don’t really know what to do with. If you think I look like I just rolled out of a punk gig and maybe a ditch, thanks. That’s the goal.

Tattoos: Mostly stick ‘n pokes, one semicolon, more pending

Piercings: Too many. Snakebites, septum, eyebrow, ears, whatever

Scars: Childhood knees. One on the ass. Don’t ask.

Makeup: Eyeliner. Smudged on purpose. Probably.

Style: Grunge-punk-trashbag-chic

Bonus Damage

• Headaches from thinking too hard (so, never)
• Vitamin D and iron deficiency (sunlight is a scam)
• Stomach pains (probably stress but I’ll pretend it’s vibes)
• Abandonment issues™
• A lil’ bit of PTSD (you don’t get bonus points for guessing why)
• Might use tattoos and piercings as therapy but I’m not unpacking that here

Backstory (Trauma dump lite)

I was born in Newham, East London. Mum was the only one who got me. She died when I was 12, and my dad kind of fell apart after. We moved to America with my gran and lived in a creaky old house that felt like home. Then my dad—well. Yeah. Now it’s just me and gran in a flat the size of a shoebox. She sleeps on the couch. I try not to feel guilty about it. Doesn’t work.

I’ve got a little crew:

• Samuel – quiet, intense, probably smarter than all of us.
• Maria – my friend. also my… yeah. She’s hot, okay?
• Scylla – chill, vegan, terrifying in a cool way.
• Marcus – I think he doesn’t like me. He’s allowed to be wrong.

Carter's Chaos Wheel

Spin the wheel for a dare or some questionable life advice. Do it. Live a little.

Carter's Hot Takes Terminal

Watch me type my unfiltered opinions in real-time. You're not ready for this.

Stupid Shit I've Done Timeline

A chaotic record of my finest moments. No regrets. Mostly.

Carter's Chaos Cookbook

Food for when you're broke, sad, or just vibing. No Michelin stars here, just survival.

The Anti-Headache Sandwich

aka: The Baconator 2.0 (no trademark don’t sue me)

Ingredients:

• 2 slices of thick toast
• Bacon (crispy af)
• A fried egg, runny
• Cheese (whatever’s in the fridge, ideally cheddar)
• Hot sauce
• Pickles (optional but superior)

Instructions:

• Toast the bread while making the bacon and egg.
• Layer cheese on hot toast so it melts.
• Slap it all together, drown it in hot sauce, cry.
• Eat lying down. Do not sit up. That’s illegal.

Hangover Potion No. 9

aka: The Juice That Could Technically Kill You

Ingredients:

• Orange juice
• Lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon of honey
• Pinch of salt
• Ice
• Optional: one mint leaf you found in the back of the fridge

Instructions:

• Mix.
• Chug.
• Immediately regret it but feel better.
• Go back to bed.

Spicy Sadboy Ramen

aka: “It’s 3AM and I Miss My Mum” Soup

Ingredients:

• Instant ramen (any kind)
• Leftover chicken (optional)
• Soy sauce
• Chili flakes
• A soft-boiled egg if you feel fancy
• Green onions if you’re pretending to be on a cooking show

Instructions:

• Cook ramen, add your sad little upgrades.
• Put in too many chili flakes.
• Cry but call it flavor.
• Eat it shirtless while scrolling through old texts.

Emergency Pancakes

aka: The “I’m Apologizing But in Food” Move

Ingredients:

• 1 cup flour
• 1 egg
• 3/4 cup milk
• 1 tbsp sugar
• 1 tbsp butter
• Pinch of salt
• Chocolate chips or bananas if you're feeling nice

Instructions:

• Mix it all up and cook on a pan.
• Stack like your life depends on it.
• Serve to whoever you pissed off (Maria, probably).
• Add smiley face in syrup if needed.

Leftover Mystery Bowl

aka: “Shut Up It Works”

Ingredients:

• Whatever’s in the fridge
• Rice or pasta as a base
• Cheese on top
• Hot sauce or ketchup (or both, chaos mode)

Instructions:

• Throw everything in a pan.
• Stir until hot.
• Ignore the texture.
• Eat while standing in the kitchen in your boxers.

BONUS: The Real One – Gran’s Fried Potatoes

(Only made when really down bad.)

Ingredients:

• Boiled potatoes, sliced
• Onion, diced
• Oil
• Salt, paprika

Instructions:

• Fry onions until golden, add potatoes and paprika.
• Stir until crispy.
• Eat straight from the pan.
• Don’t cry. (Cry a little.)

DIY or DIE

Make your own chaos. Half these might get you arrested, but that’s just ✨spice✨.

Stick & Poke Tattoo Kit (Prison Style)

You’ll need:

• Sewing needle (or a safety pin you sterilized by waving it over a lighter while laughing)
• India ink, pen ink, or literally whatever looks darkest
• Rubbing alcohol (optional but sexy)
• Tissue to sob into
• A friend who won’t flinch (optional)

Steps:

• Wash the area. Or don't. YOLO.
• Wrap the needle in thread to control the depth. This part matters. I think.
• Dip the needle in ink, stab your sadness into your skin in lil’ dots.
• Cry. Dab. Repeat.

“Yes, I’ve done this. No, I don’t regret it. Yes, I got a rash once. Still hot tho.” – Carter

Lighter That Shoots Sparks (For Vibes or Arson)

You’ll need:

• A shitty plastic lighter
• Foil
• Guts of the lighter (trust me)
• Electrical tape

Steps:

• Crack open a cheap lighter like you're performing surgery but with rage.
• Find the spark wheel and flint.
• Wrap it in foil, tape it tight, and use your thumb to flick sparks like a gremlin god.
• Set NOTHING on fire with this. (Set everything on fire.)

“Illegal? Yes. Will it make your fingers smell weird? Also yes.”

How to Skip Class With a Broken Leg (That You Don’t Actually Have)

You’ll need:

• A bandage
• Some eyeliner or lipstick
• Your best limp
• Trauma in your eyes

Steps:

• Wrap your knee. Badly.
• Smudge red makeup around it like you're bleeding out but hot.
• Hobble down the hallway moaning. Bonus points if you fake a war flashback.
• Say "I think it's fractured" and sit on the floor dramatically.

“Trust me. No one wants to deal with a teenage boy crying in public.”

Guitar Pick from a Library Card

You’ll need:

• Old library card / ID / gift card
• Scissors
• Sandpaper (or the sidewalk, same thing)

Steps:

• Trace a guitar pick shape using one you stole borrowed.
• Cut it out. Be jagged. Be free.
• File the edges smooth-ish.
• Use it to play punk songs about your dead dad. You're welcome.

“RIP my biology class ID. You rocked harder as a pick than you ever did in my wallet.”

Cigarette Case From an Altoids Tin (Because You’re Classy)

You’ll need:

• Altoids tin (empty. or eat them all. I believe in you.)
• Elastic band or ribbon
• Lighter and fake mystery vibes

Steps:

• Glue an elastic strip across the inside to hold your cigs like a true delinquent.
• Decorate the tin with nail polish or band stickers or blood idk
• Optional: Hide actual joints in the mint layer. You’re a genius.

“Bonus: If you drop it, people think you’re a nerd instead of a federal offense.”

Punk Spiked Bracelet from Literally Trash

You’ll need:

• An old belt
• Screws, nails, anything pokey
• Lighter (obviously)
• A good tetanus shot (optional)

Steps:

• Cut the belt to your wrist size with kitchen scissors you also cut your hair with.
• Shove screws through from the inside.
• Tape or glue ‘em so they don’t stab you too hard.
• Burn the edges for ✨aesthetic char✨

“Yes, you can fight a fascist in this. No, it won't hold up in court.”

Fake Nosebleed for Drama Purposes Only

You’ll need:

• Red food coloring
• Corn syrup
• A soul made of chaos

Steps:

• Mix a drop of coloring with a spoon of syrup.
• Drip it from your nose and down your lip.
• Moan “I’m fine” and watch the teacher panic.

“Extra points if you collapse into Marcus’ arms. Even if he lets you fall.”

Glowstick Juice as War Paint (DON’T EAT IT)

You’ll need:

• A glowstick
• Gloves (or don’t)
• Rage

Steps:

• Crack the glowstick open like you're summoning a demon.
• Smear the glowing goo on your cheekbones like a rave raccoon.
• Run through the streets yelling “THE REVOLUTION IS STARTING”

“Don’t put it near your eyes. Or inside anything. Seriously. Even I won’t do that.”

Smell Like a Bonfire Without Owning Cologne

You’ll need:

• Hoodie
• Campfire
• Poor life choices

Steps:

• Sit in smoke.
• Absorb the smell.
• Walk into school like a forest spirit who smokes menthols.

“Someone said I smelled like fire and divorce. Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

The Emotionally Damaged Playlist Recorder

Not illegal, just emotional.

You’ll need:

• Cassette recorder (or your phone if you’re boring)
• One very sad night
• Rain (real or YouTube)

Steps:

• Record yourself saying: “Hey. If you found this, I’m probably dead or just dramatic.”
• Add music that sounds like crying under a leather jacket.
• Hide the recording in your school locker for someone to find.

“It’s not a cry for help. It’s ✨art✨.”

Carter’s Trash Gallery

Stuff I vibe with. No explanations, just chaos.

Secret Rant Zone

Got the key? Type it in. No hints, figure it out or cry about it.