The brain is like a super computer, if it stays on for too long its starts to...overheat. The inner workings of a mind unable to stop it's wheels from turning. Standalone Frerard.
P S- I just got web access in my room so i suspect quicker updates in the future.
P P S- if anyone wants to suggest/request a story just pop it in my ask (if you have tumblr) here
: Tales of an Insomniac
Disclaimer:*glances over at naked boys tied up around room*... Define own...
(I had to write in Frank's POV to make it work, i know it's usually Gerard getting the beat down but today its Frank. Deal with it.)
The huge red numbers of the clock stared back at me and through my bleary eye sight it was as though they were mocking me. It was funny. The dull repetitive sounds of the traffic outside would send anyone into a soft slumber. The sound of wheels on tarmac zooming past leaving mere echo's in its place or maybe it was the constant thrum of heat seeping into the hotel room through the open window. If i could move, i would laugh. Laugh at the fact the humid air outside had everyone else out like a light. Of course my laugh would be less than merry, more like a manic cackle made by an escaped mental patient. Yes that sound would suit me well.
It had been seven days. Seven. Without sleep's peaceful bliss, welcoming me with warm arms and taking me away from my troubles. It was scientifically proven that the human brain could not survive without sleep for more than ten days, before it shuts down completely. I could already feel myself going mad. But really, who in this world is sane anyway we're all fucked up in one way or another. Some just prefer a more self destructive path.
My head feels like its wrapped up in a grey fog, a thick blanket placed over my thoughts. Its as if i'm lost in a waking dream, so hazy and distant. By some aspects, i really am disconnected from my own mind. What a beautifully horrid thought, I've died inside my own head.
My eyes burn in my skull, stuck in this cobweb of thoughts I've fabricated in the space between sleep and the illusion of being awake. Every second passes and the led tonnes weighing down on my eyelids feel heavier and heavier. I'm numb everywhere. If i touched my face, i wouldn't know. I don't even think i'd feel the pressure of my own finger tips.
I continue to stare, not really looking ahead of me. I'm aware that hours have passed in mere seconds, happens way too often now. The frequent blackouts were beginning to set me on edge. One minute i'm in sound check, the next i'm stumbling over chords in 'Venom' or some other song i'm halfheartedly playing, in front of hundreds of kids all chanting the words along with us in a sea of dark clothing and make-up.
I don't know how it got so bad so quick, and frankly i don't want to know. Maybe my reluctance to talk or just my stupid fucking luck. The guys weren't idiots, far from it in fact. They had to have picked up on something, of course they did. I'm pretty sure Bob had commented on my 'walking dead' appearance at some point this week, in either dry humor or concern. A crew member asked if i was getting sick. Yeah sick in the head. I know for a fact Ray kept on inquiring if i was okay until i stalked off, too tired to assure him i was fine by answering with the overly used retort to that question. Because honestly i was okay...i was functioning wasn't i?
I really don't remember much of the last few days. I'd like to think i was acting as normal as possible, but even i don't believe that.
I think Gerard tried to talk to me. Yes yes he definitely cornered me on our last hotel night. He made me listen to his kind words even if i didn't believe them myself. "Please Frank, you're not fine. Seriously i'm fucking scared for you....it's okay to be messed up y'know". I let a small amused breath escape my body as i repeat his heartfelt words in that sincere voice that cracks my heart in two. "It's okay to be messed up" Yeah Gerard when you were high, on eight different kinds of meds all at once, while pounding your fifth beer of the morning, covered in your own filth: Its okay! He still didn't have a clue how much shit he put us through. Even his own fucking brother. He'd only been sober for 5 months, the lectures could wait. I was proud of my friend for quitting but telling me it was okay, fucking hurt. Obviously i didn't mean very much to him or he would of quit all the shit he did sooner, but Gerard had a secure place in my heart no matter what he did.
I always put his needs and worries above mine. Even when i was at my worst like right now. He was the reason i refused to take anything for my insomnia, drugs were out. If he relapsed again i would never forgive myself. No. its Gerard first, it's always gonna be Gee. He's all I've got and all i'll ever need.
All the color's of the hotel ceiling are beginning to meld together and i can feel my vision start to tunnel. Faded skies of dusty orange come to life before my tired staring eyes. Its just another sleepless night .
Reviews would be nice. They motivate me.