Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance


by AlexisSCREAM 0 reviews

Only now do I know how it really feels.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Fantasy - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2013-02-18 - Updated: 2013-02-18 - 423 words - Complete

I have no idea why I'm writing this weird piece of crap. At all. Boredom, I guess. Blame the boredom.

Gerard's POV

I used to feel alone, neglected, invisible. I used to believe I was forgotten. But, I wasn't. Only now do I know how it really feels to be forgotten. It's been 100 years since I breathed my last breath. My family, my friends, they're dead and gone. But people remember them. People remember their smiles, their actions, their stories.

Stories which may or may not have included me.

I was sixteen when I ended it. I quit. I felt that I could not stay any longer, that I could not lie any longer. I wanted to try, but, alas, trying was too much. I felt broken. I remember it all so well, the thoughts, the pain, and finally, the end. I was glad to die.

Except, I wasn't.

I watched my family mourn, I watched my brother break down in tears, I watched my boyfriend relapse. He started cutting again. My parents didn't speak to one another, or anyone else for that matter. My friends fucked up their education.

Because of me.
Because I fucked up.

I'd never meant to hurt them, I hadn't meant to and yet I still did. I remember how my boyfriend would sit on his bed each night, blade in hand, with tears in his eyes and tears in his skin. I wanted to reach out, to tell him to stop, to tell him it was going to be okay, but I couldn't.

Frank killed himself on the second anniversary of my death.

My brother couldn't function. All he did was cry until he ran out of tears. Eventually, he grew numb from the pain. He couldn't trust people and lived the rest of his life alone.

He died 40 years ago in a house fire. I'm not sure whether he set it alight himself or not.

And me?

No one remembers me. I was forgotten long ago by those who didn't care. Those that did care found it too painful to remember.

I was forgotten.

And now, I look around this infinite blankness and I know. I understand.
It's not worth it, killing yourself.
There are so many people out there, so many, that care about you. Each you. So battle on for them. Battle on. Because although it's painful to suffer, it's even more painful if you're the cause for the sadness of others.

So try.

Because I'd hate for you all to be forgotten.
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