If I'm crazy, you are too. You just, kind of, are. Read, review, rate and feel my love!
You’re not my friend. You never were. You just, kind of, are. You exist, but you’re not here. Not really. You’re not a lie, but you’re not exactly a truth either. You just, kind of, are.
If I could kill you, would I? No. That’d be like you killing me; it just wouldn’t happen. But you are killing me, right now you are. I don’t know how, but everything about you is tearing apart every atom in my being, is turning my blood to poison and my thoughts to daggers. You’re killing me. You just, kind of, are.
What’s it like to be you? Actually, don’t tell me. That’s something I never want to understand. You, you, are something I never want to understand. Because to understand is to comprehend and comprehending something like you could spell the end of me. My sense of self-preservation isn’t that fucked-up, not yet, not enough for me to want to understand you, to feel you, to get you. Everything about you is wrong. You just, kind of, are.
You aren’t real. I know you’re not. You can’t be. You just don’t make sense. You’re like the monster mothers tell their beloved children about; they love them so they scare them away from being lost with tales of a terrible monster. You’re that monster. Born of love but huge through fear, my fear. My fear is your drug and everything about you is mine. You just, kind of, are.
You scare me, sometimes. All the time. You’re too cruel to me, too cruel for it to feel good and real anymore. Like, everything I do I have to do it for you or else it doesn’t make sense. You control me, like that. Make me feel worthless unless my actions are for you, because of you. That’s cruelty at it’s highest degree. You’re ruining me, you know? You just, kind of, are.
The others don’t like you either. Their scared of you too, just like me. But I don’t like the way they hate you; they don’t even fucking know you, so it’s not like it’s even fair. At least me hating you is fair, them hating you isn’t it. It’s so unfair that it hurts, that it makes me pity you and want to please you just so you don’t cry. They say you’re dangerous, that you want to hurt me and that you make me hurt them. But they’re liars. You’re a liar too, but you’re better than them. You just, kind of, are.
I do hate you, honest, I do. You hate me too though, so that makes it alright. I hate me as well and you hate you, so we’re all even on that front. Perfect. So much hate and too much disillusion. Disillusion. That’s all I am. A let down. A disappointment. So are you. But you’re never the one begging for forgiveness. Apart from I know, deep down, you are. You just, kind of, are.
They say I’m, you’re. No. They say We’re crazy. That’s what we are now, isn’t it; a We, not a Me and a You or two separate people. We are the same. I look in the mirror and I see you, I see someone I despise and want dead but need all at once. I see you, my sweet insanity, every morning when I wake up it’s always you I see in the mirror. You. Me. You are me. You are We.
You just, kind of, are.
A/N: So this is kinda meant to be from Gerard's point of view, but it can be whoever you want it to be, I guess. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)