It's the sequel to "Frankie's Journal".
Oh please, like you didn't know I'd be back.
A year from when I stopped writing to you- well, it's not exactly a year, it's more like a year and three months- but still. But who's getting technical?
You're probably wondering why I'm writing again, why I'm locked inside my room in the dark waiting for the world to end and save me from the nothing I became. Yes, I'm stalling...
I'm writing again because my life turned to shit quicker than I thought it ever could. I was happy, I had what I wanted for once, I had a smile on my face, I laughed and didn't have a care in the world. But I guess that's why everything turned into a toddlers soiled diaper.
Everything was great, you know? Gerard and I were together, he had been cured of his depression, we had fun and countless great weekends together. But then it changed. It all changed. Gerard spiraled downwards after his Grandma passed away. He'd lock himself away, he wouldn't talk to me, answer my calls... Mikey didn't even know what was going on. Gerard wouldn't talk to him either. We were both so damned worried, but he just shut us out.
One day, when Mikey wasn't at home, I went to his house and basically let myself in and went to Gerard's room, burst through the door demanding a dramatic explanation. He was sitting in the middle of his trashed room on top of black band shirts and hoodies, blood shot eyes and hair that hadn't been brushed in months. His already pale skin had looked a sickly white color, it looked like he hadn't showered in his life and he was in need of a shave. He had looked horrible. Completely horrible.
I didn't know why he had looked guilty when I had gone into his room. He had sat there avoiding my gaze, and in less then three minutes, I found out why.
Out of his joined bathroom had stumbled a drunk and high Bert, greasy hair, stubble and a smell to match Gerard's. It was quite an awkward moment I guess, for all of us that night. I mean, there I was standing in a stinking room. There Gerard was knowing he was busted, and then there Bert was. Blindly stumbling out of the bathroom not realizing that he too had been caught and who was actually standing in the room with them.
I yelled. No, I fucking screamed at bother Gerard and Bert. I knew what was going on then, why the room had a sickly gross smell, why Bert was half naked and why Gerard was, well, only covered by a thin, white, stained bed sheet.
Journal, he cheated on me. But not only that, I mean that was enough to make me want to shoot myself in the head and show him how much he meant to me and what he had lost, but he was as drunk and high as Bert was. Gerard, my beautiful, clean and amazing Gerard had turned into a junkie, a cheater--A fucking monster.
He had made me laugh though that night because he tried to apologize and used the excuse 'I was trying to deal with things, I felt like shit, I'm sorry! I didn't know what I was doing' I literally laughed, even though my tears had shown it wasn't in fact funny at all and that I was clearly hurt.
I screamed at him nearly all night. When Mikey had gotten home, he was too afraid to go upstairs to see what was going on. He just let me scream my lungs out, scream until my throat was raw. He let me get hurt.
Okay. Well, I don't blame Mikey. He had no idea what was happening because as far as he knew, Bert was meant to be helping him get better in a totally safe way. So I don't blame the guy for leaving me defenseless in that filthy room. I'm grateful he wasn't there to see it, or worse, get pulled into it.
Gerard had gotten mad. He said I was giving him a headache with my yelling and had, at some point during my rage, put some pants on. He said he didn't need this and that I was making him feel worse. He didn't care about how I felt.
As stupid as I was, I yelled at him again, telling him what I felt. I split my heart out to the whole neighborhood that could clearly hear me, but he just got angrier.
He beat me half to death that night and threw me into the hallway of his own home to bleed to death. If it weren't for Mikey coming up to see if everything was alright because we had gone quiet, I probably wouldn't be here right now writing this to you.
To be honest, I would rather have died there than feel as alone as I do right now.
Mikey was with me the whole time in hospital. Apologizing over and over for his brothers stupid actions, when really, we both couldn't think of Gerard as a brother or boyfriend anymore. It was more along the lines of Satan. King of hell itself.
We never told the police it was Gerard that did it. It's not that we were afraid something would happen to us because of Bert or anything, we never thought about that at the time. (I literally only thought about it right now, it doesn't seem too bad) No. We still cared for him, we still had the smallest bit of hope he'd realize what he'd done and stop it all, end whatever relations he was having with that pig Bert and get help. We hoped he'd get better and become the Gerard we knew and loved.
It hasn't happened yet, and it's been four months. He's never coming back. He's never going to just show up at my door out of the blue, clean and sober, hair cut, shaved, showered and in clean clothes and apologize for what happened. To admit that what he did was careless and that he'd do anything in the world to make it all right, to make me trust and love him again.
But it won't. I know that, Mikey knows that and now you know that. Nothing can change him from the monster he's become, and as shit as I feel about it, I'll be better and safer with out him.
Frank, March 25
P.S I moved away from him. I'm no longer in my sweet town of Jersey..