Gerard's not being true to himself. Oneshot! review!
A big, dull metal box with a padlock, which he hid away beneath his bed mattress.
He kept the key in the secret pocket in his leather jacket at all times.
The box of secrets was his most prized and simultaniously most shameful posession.
He loved it because it was something that was his, that noone else knew about.
Noone could poison with their harsh words and ruin forever.
But at the same time he hated it because it made him realise his own mortality.
It made him human, when he wanted to be perfect.
It made him disposable, when he wanted to be invincible.
Topmost, on the pile of scrunched balls of paper that made up his secrets was a peice of ancient, browning paper, torn out of a notebook in junior high.
This peice of paper was the oldest of all the secrets, but also the most important.
This peice of paper read, in a young, scribbly handwriting,
"I like the boys in my class better than I like the girls."
Though the writing was difficult to read now, after being dotted with years worth of tears, the words were imprinted on his memory anyway.
When he closed his eyes, he could almost read them tattooed in blinding white light across the reds of his eyelids.
He hated this peice of paper, and the facts scrawled upon it more than anything else inside the box.
He hated it because he didn't want it to be true.
Because this, above all, made him human.
And try as he might to tear this ball of paper from the box, he couldn't bring himself to throw it into the waste paper bin.
He didn't know why.
He just knew that the paper had stayed inside that box all these years, and it wasn't going to be moving anytime soon.
But he didn't know why.
Staring down at that sheet pulled on his heart strings.
Caused a strange growling monster to erupt deep inside his gut.
It hurt to look at that paper.
But he couldn't tear his eyes away.
As the sky grew dark outside, so did his thoughts.
His thoughts turned from the usual muddle of cheer-leader girlfriends, CD's he wanted to buy at the mall the next day, and kids he and his friends could beat up tomorow after class.
Turned to deep, dark thoughts.
Thoughts of razors and boys.
Sex and blood.
And these thoughts were the real him.
The rest, that was just his cover-up.
Because he couldn't let the world know who he really was.
The world wasn't ready for who he really was, just yet anyway.
So he carefully stored who he really was deep inside that dull metal box with the padlock, until the world was ready to know him.
Until the world was ready to know the real Gerard Way.