Gerard's bored. (Another one of my crazy, middle of the night I need a life let us pull this out of my ass one shots.)
I'm fat, not obese but fat. I'm not technically overweight, but I have this disgusting gut that needs to go away. A frontman can't look like this. I just can't, can't look like this. I can't have these cuts either, they don't help anything. But the blade is dull and I can't cut deep-- the most time they ever take to heal is a few days. I can live in a few days, sigh as I look at the marks on my wrist.
They say people commit suicide, or self harm, because they're sick of life, angry, depressed or bored. I would certainly fall into the last category.
I were songs, I get to express myself through my art. But it's all shit, I don't have a muse, a reason to be anything but bored. My wife is touring, my daughter-- who knows what happened to Bandit? She's at the daycare, I have to pick he up later.
But I'm... So utterly bored.
There's nothing to do, nothing keeps my attention. But... When I have a shard of mirror that will never do me any real damage, I find my mood as calm as ever as I cut into the flesh, and then there's this delicious fascination with watching the blood seep onto my pale skin, beading up and pouring out. A strange thing to like, but like it I do. I like it, I love it and whenever I see the piece of mirror lying idly by I can't help but wonder how deep I can push it, how much I can put on myself.
I never get very deep, I can't. Not with the mirror.
It's good, though.
Because I'm all alone,