Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Don't Tell Me I'm an Angel

Should I Begin to Let You Know Just What I'm Feeling?

by Emo_musik_chick 1 Reviews

Love-sick, hormone-driven, confused, angry and emotional teenagers. What fun it is to be in high school.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Romance - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Ray Toro - Published: 2009/02/12 - Updated: 2009/02/23 - 1391 words

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OHMYGOSHI'MSOSORRYTHATTOOKSOLONG. But I'm back, and I promise that'll never happen again. So here's the thing- I've sorta decided that, instead of doing a solely Frerard story, this'll revolve around all the members of the band. Just because...I dunno, it'll be fun.


Dear Nobody,

This entire thing is dumb. I shouldn't have to be doing this. Today,
instead of biology, the guidance counselor Ms. Kensington [which is
like the cheesiest name ever] came into our class for some "Personal
Workshop" or something. She made us write a letter for homework. She
made a huge big deal of telling us how she "would never dream of
reading ot unless asked to do so". -.- Whatever. So you were supposed
to address it to anyone [your friend, your sibling, yourself] and
"open up about your deepest feelings". Well, my "deepest feelings"
[again, whatever] revolve around one person. So I figure I'll write
about her.
Ergh. It drives me insane just looking at her. And not even like
that- just the desire to hold her, to kiss her...

Alright, that was gay.

But seriously. I've never felt this way about anybody before. It's
going on three years that I've been in love with her, and she still
has no idea. She's too obliviously happy with that fucking boyfriend-

Okay, don't think about that- hurts too much.

I don't know what to do. I mean, I'd love to say that I'm gonna look
into her beautiful brown eyes, bravely announce my burning love for
her, and then she'd, in a moment of epiphany, realize that she felt
the same way, and then we'd both hop on my white stallion [that
sounded oddly sexual] and ride into the sunset. In reality, however, I
wouldn't have the guts to tell her, she wouldn't feel the same, and
the closest I have to a white stallion is some junk old pickup that
barely goes faster than 20 per hour.

I feel pathetic.

But really, this boyfriend of hers- I can't even write the fucking
bastard's name- isn't all that great. Sure, he's "so hot" and "loves
music" and whatever other shit, but does that make him a good
boyfriend? And furthermore, she probably only fell for him because
she's got this thing for musicians, she loves writers, and he's got
that damned black hair with that damned side bang and those damned
skinny jeans. Well, firstly, I'M A FUCKING MUSICIAN, TOO. It's not
that difficult. Secondly, I'm in the dude's writing class, and he
sucks. I, on the other hand, was nominated for a CITY-WIDE WRITING
COMPETITION. And don't try to tell me she didn't know that, because
SHE WAS NOMINATED FOR THE SAME BLOODY CONTEST. And finally, just
because he's got those damned snakebites and wears eyeliner doesn't
make him any more of a person. The only other guy I know who wears
make-up is Gerard, and the dude's gay. Sorry, but it's true. And you
know what else? I bet he knows nothing about her. Does he know that
her favorite bands are Bring Me the Horizon, and A Rocket to the Moon?
I do. Does he know that her favorite movies are Sweeney Todd, The
Nightmare Before Xmas and The Dark Knight? I definitely do. Does he
know that she cackles when she's nervous or that she has never broken
a bone or that Dumbo makes her cry harder than notoriously sad films
ever could? WELL I DO. So because I don't wear metal rings on my lips,
that makes me a bad boyfriend?

UGH. Love sucks. Everything about it sucks. I officially hate love,
and nothing on this entire Earth could possibly change that.

But all it's going to take is one glance at that flawlessly beautiful
face, and I'm going to forget this rage entirely.

God...I really am pathetic.

-Ray

Dear Life,
Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you. For all I care you could go lock
yourself in some tiny little closet and spend the rest of eternity
fucking yourself in there and never come out. That is how much I like
you right now.

Why the hell did this happen to me? Me, of all people? Did I piss you
off or something? Did I, like, do something that caused a chain
reaction that ended up killing France's president or something when I
was little and now I'm being punished? Because last time I checked
being desprately infatuated with a girl who thinks of you as nothing
more than her best friend is a pretty mean punishment.

Everything about her is amazing. Everything. She's tall and beautiful
and smart and funny and always smiling, no matter what. She can always
put a grin on your face with her endlessly-happy attitude. And she's
perfect. So perfect, in fact, that she's the fricken ONLY thing on my
mind right now, even though I've got midterms in, like, a week and I
should be studying the shit out of myself. Here I am, writing this
retard-ass letter thing to God-knows-whom because that freaky guidance
counselor lady Mrs. Ken-whatever decided it was absolutely necessary
that I, for homework, set a timer for twenty minutes and write some
idiot stream-of-consciousness essay about my feelings [something I
WOULD NOT normally do]. ...And as soon as I wrote that I realized that
she's not gonna read it, and I don't have to write it if I don't want
to, and she'll never know.

I feel stupid now.

And yet here I am, still writing. Because right now I'm exploding with
emotions, burning with love that increases EVERY FUCKING DAY for some girl who has probably never given dating me a first thought, let alone a second, and I'm just sitting
on my lazy ass being too much of a pussy to tell her how I feel.

But seriously, should I talk to her? Wait- she's my best friend, of
course I should. But do I tell her? She's got a right to know. Still,
I'm worried she'll reject me [she most likely will]. That'd make
everything beyond awkward.

SEE? THIS IS WHY I DON'T WRITE DOWN MY FEELINGS.

Oh Christ- I am /freaking out/. What if she already knows?! What if I
suck at hiding it and everyone knows? What if she doesn't say
anything because she doesn't feel the same?!

I hate Ms. Kensington.

Thank fuck- there's the alarm. I am never doing that again. And
particularly not for homework on the day I've got a study session with
her.

Oh God.

-Bob

Dear Nobody Who I Resent Despite Their Nonexistence,
Fuck the what. This is the most stupid-ass assignment I have ever been
given. And trust me, I’ve gotten some pretty fucking stupid assignments. But
really…a letter about my FEELINGS??! Come on, let’s get real.

Oh alright whatever. Since I’m here, I might as well tell you that MY
LIFE SUCKS. Like, majorly. You really can’t get any worse than being in love
with your best friend. How terribly low is that? But I can’t HELP IT! He’s
sweet, he’s funny, he’s attractive, he’s talented…dude he’s fucking perfect!
But he only thinks of me as a friend, so I’m really just wasting my time
obsessing. I mean what would he see in me? I SUCK at the drums, I’m not pretty,
and I’m the ‘whore’ of the grade. What is there to like?
Gahh but I can’t just forget about him…I should probably tell him.
What am I, fucking INSANE??! I have no idea where that came from…I mean if I
can’t date the guy, which I can’t, WHY fuck up our insanely close friendship??
Really. I think I’m delirious.
Sigh. At least Trexx and Mikey are together…FINALLY. We all saw that one
coming. FUCK! Anddd I just realized she’s over at his place ‘studying’
[whatever] and I didn’t give her a goddamn condom! SHIT! I am a fucking idiot…
yet another reason for him not to want to date me.

FUCK this is painful. I hate this assignment. I hate Ms. Kensington or whatever
for GIVING us this assignment. I hate the school for hiring Ms. Kensington who
gave us this assignment. I hate—

Yeahh I’m just gonna stop now…
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