Also... Mother is still missing and really? I’ve given up all hope that she’s coming back at all. I’ve picked up the bad habit of cutting myself again... I almost passed out last night, I cut too deep. I thought I was going to die, and while I was sitting there half conscious, I was actually happy and looking forward to the never ending darkness. I better go actually, I need to catch up on sleep. Write tomorrow... maybe.
Frank, 24 November
Note: Was I born to be alone?
Oh god, today was bad. I think they may have broken my fingers, so I have them taped with white injury tape and more bruises and cuts to my never ending collection. As much as I try to forget about the asshole his Mother called ‘Gerard’, he pounds my head against yet another locker or floor and embeds it in my mind again. Gerard fucking Way, the destroyer of life, emotion and hope.
He made me miss the bus today, which made me late, which also got me a detention after school tomorrow. There I was, standing in the cold or half an hour waiting for the stupid yellow scrap heap, then when it arrives and I go to get on, he pushes me back out the door and down the stairs, glared at me angrily as I sat on my ass painfully on the pavement before the doors closed and the bus took off. His group and many others laughing at me from the windows as I watched the bus drive off. I didn’t even bother to get up and run after it, I just sat there for a few minutes registering what had happened, which also is a contribution to my lateness.
Once I was at school, I entered my chemistry class late, which caused me to be partnered with the one, the only, the fucked up son of a bitch, Gerard Way. We were dissecting frogs, just what I never wanted to do being vegetarian and all, so I stood back a little bit. I had forgotten I had told Gerard I was vegetarian and he threw the half cut open frog at me, making me run, squeal, then faint and end up in the nurses office again.
The next encounter was after lunch break, when I went to gym, my most hated class next to maths. But what made it even worse was, we’re doing wrestling there, so of course they were going to choose me to try, or successfully brake. I was chosen by Alex and Gerard, was flipped over millions of times on the mat telling me they had painfully won, and so when they were leaving for the change rooms, Alex stood on my hand, right on my fingers. I heard the bones snap underneath his heavy weight! I yelled out in pain, but of course no one would have helped me, so here I am now. Bruised cheek, bruised body, broken fingers and very, very drowsy from the pass out. Oh the excitement of what is going to happen tomorrow...
Frank, 25 November
Note: One day Gerard is all sorry for everything, then the next he wants me dead. Bipolar? I think so.