Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > so long and goodnight
his name was andy, andy beirsack
1 review"why don't you go and suck your boyfriends dick andrea!!"... i wish i hadn't have given up on him... his tear stained face and the life seeping from... you dont deserve any of what they did to ...
1Moving
I understand why people tell them; why they believe that their families will accept anything they say. we're raised that way. I alot alike most children have heard their parents say something along the lines of "i'm always gonna love you, even if your a phycopathic serial killer." and i believed that they would, after all in order to be a phycopathic serial killer you would have to be insane and people tend to have much sympathy for the insane. But i know my mum all to well, she'd make it out like she didn't care but on the inside she'd be crushed, trying to figure out where she went wrong.
My dad, on the other hand, would be fuming he'd be bubbling up, bursting from the seams. For you see. I come from a deeply religeous family and with a queer son how was he supposed to be a true man of the church? i'll tell you how, he can't.
I think the hardest thing for me is having no-one to talk to about this with, feeling alone. I know the 1 out of 10 rule and all but that would mean that out of the 416 pupils that go to bitterroot high (terrible name i know. who the fuck calls a school bitterroot?!?) approximatly 42 of them are gay. Theres no way thats right. I've tried to find these elusive 'fags' or 'lezbos' as people so lovingly call them, but no such luck has befallen me. Maybe they're really good at hiding, just like me. Hiding behind the books or footballs under the goth makeup or cheerleader pom poms. Hiding behind anything and everything to spare them from the torture, the exile.
I understand the whole 'experimenting' thing as well. Straight guys jerking eachother off 'just once' and then being terrified that they're gay. I could have done it with them but then i'd have to tell them that i wasn't just 'experimenting' and that would just be awkward for the other guys.
There was this one boy. His name was Andy, Andy Beirsack. When we were in middle school he only played with the girls(and no not in that way you perverts!!!) he wore makeup and just to top it off he giggled when he talked. Andy had that look about him, he was pretty with cherry red lips and liquid brown eyes. I noticed him, i like him, but i wasn't like him so i left him alone. The other boys would taunt him with comments like "your a pretty little fag aren't you?? gonna go off skipping with the girls gay boy??" and "why don't you go and suck your boyfriends dick andrea!!" Andy would always sit by the bleachers, head in his hands and cry. I don't think he thought anyone knew. I did. I also knew he cut and i wanted desperatly to help him. To save him from himself. From them. To make him feel safe, but would always just shrug me off and so eventually i gave up. I wish i hadn't. I found his bloodied body under the bleachers later that day. His tears stained his face, a bloody baseball bat lying next to him while the life seeped from just about every part of his body. I held him in my arms as he drifted off into his eternal sleep. I pictured this scene every time i closed my eyes for just about a year until i finally managed to blank the memory out. I will forever be ashamed that i didn't go and help him, if your listning Andy, im sorry. You didn't deserve anything they did you.
My dad, on the other hand, would be fuming he'd be bubbling up, bursting from the seams. For you see. I come from a deeply religeous family and with a queer son how was he supposed to be a true man of the church? i'll tell you how, he can't.
I think the hardest thing for me is having no-one to talk to about this with, feeling alone. I know the 1 out of 10 rule and all but that would mean that out of the 416 pupils that go to bitterroot high (terrible name i know. who the fuck calls a school bitterroot?!?) approximatly 42 of them are gay. Theres no way thats right. I've tried to find these elusive 'fags' or 'lezbos' as people so lovingly call them, but no such luck has befallen me. Maybe they're really good at hiding, just like me. Hiding behind the books or footballs under the goth makeup or cheerleader pom poms. Hiding behind anything and everything to spare them from the torture, the exile.
I understand the whole 'experimenting' thing as well. Straight guys jerking eachother off 'just once' and then being terrified that they're gay. I could have done it with them but then i'd have to tell them that i wasn't just 'experimenting' and that would just be awkward for the other guys.
There was this one boy. His name was Andy, Andy Beirsack. When we were in middle school he only played with the girls(and no not in that way you perverts!!!) he wore makeup and just to top it off he giggled when he talked. Andy had that look about him, he was pretty with cherry red lips and liquid brown eyes. I noticed him, i like him, but i wasn't like him so i left him alone. The other boys would taunt him with comments like "your a pretty little fag aren't you?? gonna go off skipping with the girls gay boy??" and "why don't you go and suck your boyfriends dick andrea!!" Andy would always sit by the bleachers, head in his hands and cry. I don't think he thought anyone knew. I did. I also knew he cut and i wanted desperatly to help him. To save him from himself. From them. To make him feel safe, but would always just shrug me off and so eventually i gave up. I wish i hadn't. I found his bloodied body under the bleachers later that day. His tears stained his face, a bloody baseball bat lying next to him while the life seeped from just about every part of his body. I held him in my arms as he drifted off into his eternal sleep. I pictured this scene every time i closed my eyes for just about a year until i finally managed to blank the memory out. I will forever be ashamed that i didn't go and help him, if your listning Andy, im sorry. You didn't deserve anything they did you.
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