Originally posted on Quizilla on my account burnupmyicyheart. This goes out to Gerard Way for caring. He's my hero and because of him, I'm not under 6 ft of dirt. I stopped cutting too. So thanks, ...
Written and edited by Sinister Robbins
Dedicated to Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Frank Iero, Ray Toro, and Bob Bryar
Emotions overcame my weak, tortured body as I sank deeper into my bed; sinking deeper into depression as I did so. I knew, of course, that I would have to face him sometime. I couldn’t escape into the depths of darkness in my room; no matter how much I wanted to; no matter how comfortable and easy life was there. Shadows danced on the white material covering my windows; shielding me from the darkness and sick lies of the real world, two things that I was very familiar with. Street lights and vehicles lit up my sanctuary for a split-second, disappeared, and then returned. The light continued this pattern as I watched in awe, my head spinning with every turn and twist of the routine. I felt utterly delusional; in a state where I was standing on the thin line between reality and fantasy. To put it simply: I was completely overcome in depression. A feeling I was all too familiar with. A feeling that could be put to rest by simply listening to Gerard Way’s beautifully understanding voice that always made me tremble. This time was different, though. My Chemical Romance was the problem, therefore could not be the solution. No matter how much I wanted them to be.
“What are those lacerations from?” Gerard had said just an hour before. An hour before I had been happy for once. He didn’t know. The others hadn’t known either. They liked me. Now they knew I was damaged. Now they knew what I had done to overpower my emotional issues. Now they didn’t want me. But who could blame them? No one wants to be friends with the damaged kid. No one wants to be admired by the damaged kid. And no one ever wants to interact with the damaged kid. Sadly, these rules made it so I had few friends and no family. Self expression was something my father didn’t believe in, and my mother wasn’t yet ready to be a mother, so I was hated and ignored by both parents. “You hurt yourself. You cut yourself,” he had said, shocked at such sick, twisted actions. He didn’t believe what he was seeing. How could he? The lacerations were brutal and deep. And I was small, short, and young. No one would ever suspect me to be the loner. But of course, I was and always had been. And I knew I always would be. I would cause myself an immense amount of pain so I could endure depression at its worst. But of course, everything has to end sometime. I had quit cutting as soon as I found My Chemical Romance and realized that they weren’t around to get famous. They cared and they were there to help. They’ve saved more lives that any superhero from the many comics I’ve read. I looked up to them and now they knew. I had let them down and I was ashamed. At the time, I thought there was no other way. Gerard had seen the scars on my legs. It was easier to hide the fact that the cuts were my fault if they were on my legs. That is, until the kids at school realized I wasn’t athletic and hardly set foot outside. That was the end of most of my friendships. That was also the beginning of many hurtful school days of which were filled with physical and emotional pain mixed into one beautifully tragic bullet that killed me more and more every day as I lost more and more hope. Suicide could’ve been an alternative, and I had planned how to commit suicide many times, but I had to make my mark on the world first. I thought it was too late, so I could put aside my needs and help someone else feel better and keep living. Luckily for me, I was a good liar and could fake a smile any day. No one suspected a thing. I was always the quiet one, pondering a way to go against gravity.
I heard footsteps progressing closer and closer to the entrance of my sanctuary. I knew very well who it was. The footsteps echoed the sound of former depression and angst along with a new sound. Worry. Could it be that someone cared? Could it possibly be that someone wanted the damaged kid? This was by far an amazing feeling I was not at all familiar with. The door slowly opened and Gerard’s head peeked in along with his jet black hair. The rest of his figure made its way in and he cocked his head to the side, squinting in the act. I suddenly felt him pull me into an embrace, passing on an unfamiliar feeling to my side of the hug. Friendship. He let me go all too soon and whispered, “It’s okay. We understand,” before leaving me alone to find Lyn-Z and the other members of My Chemical Romance to tell them I was okay and my scars hadn’t been reopened. The smell of coffee and cigarettes lingered behind. I thought of Famous Last Words. I retrieved my IPod from my bedside table and let Gerard’s voice lull me into a heavy slumber. “I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone. Honey if you stay, I'll be forgiven. Nothing you can say can stop me going home.” Self-harm is never the solution to family and school issues. Self-expression and talking to someone you trust are always the best alternatives to any kind of self-harm. Because you’re not only scarring yourself physically, you’re emotionally damaging yourself and hurting the people that love you. There is always someone out there that cares. Thank you My Chemical Romance.
Thanks for reading. :) Love, peace, and chicken grease -Sin