Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Translucent Eyeball
The Translucent Eyeball
Normal teenagers have normal problems. Frank's never been normal. He's got a journal full of issues and an unadulterated hate of odd numbers. He spends most of his life “Thinking to himself” an...
?Blocked
Chapter 1: Thinking to yourself
5:13 PM
5:15 PM
5:17 PM
Thursday, October 11th, 2007 5:20 PM
Goddammit….How does it take so long to write the time Frank?…It’s the odd numbers that’s what it fucking is.
Well maybe if you’d stop looking at your phone.
They’re not coming home today…they’re just not, get over it.
I groaned in frustration as I continued writing in my journal, or rather as I made an attempt to type up a useless entry of how my day had gone. Charlie says it’ll help with the anxiety but so far, all it seems to have done for me is piss me off and make me see how worthless I really am.
Charlie’s my therapist, though I should be calling him Mr. Lake…he believes it’ll make me feel closer to him as a person if we go on a first name basis. Yes, because I really would love to feel close to a man who smells of Old Spice and graham crackers and wastes all of my parents’ money getting me to talk about what was on my mind for the week.
Don’t get me wrong…He’s a nice guy and all…I just hate getting close to anyone and I guess that’s where my problems begin. I’m the kid in class who’ll sit in the back and do all the work but once the time comes to work in groups or something along those lines, I’ll do anything and everything to get my ass out of there. It gets to the point where I get physically sick thinking about the potential prospect of getting up in front of a class of scum bags and having to recite god knows what.
You’re doing that thing again….You’re talking to yourself…
Fuck why am I sweating so much?
I’m not TALKING to myself…its more of…THINKING to myself….yea that’s it…what’s wrong with that?
Apparently there is something wrong with that, at least when you THINK to yourself about the sorts of things I do. It says so right here on this little bottle…hang on I’ll go get it..
Fuck Dammit…Why do you feel the need to narrate your entire life?…Fuck these pills they’re making this shit worse..
I got up and went over to the kitchen cabinet, pushing a few bottles around until I found the one I was looking for. I took two of the pills and walked back over to my desk, unlocking my computer again as I looked at the time.
DAMMIT!
5:43 PM
I sat there for another minute waiting for the clock to change to the time I wanted. I chewed on my lip, looking all around the room until I saw that I had missed the fucking chance and it was now reading…
5:45 PM
You know what?…Screw this. What’s wrong with talking to myself? You’re not fucking talking to yourself, you’re not speaking out loud, its all in your head…That’s where it always is. What good will it do me to write about this shit or talk to someone about this? Who wants to read about 17 year old Frank Iero, psychological marvel…Look up “Socially Inept” and you’ll see a picture of me sticking my middle finger up at you. Or for a good laugh , flip through to “Avolition” and you’ll find me sitting in the room with Charlie, as he’s scribbling away in his notebook and I’m half asleep.
I don’t need a medical term to label me and further outcast me from whatever I actually fit in with. “Avolition”…I’m sorry…I thought normal people found that to mean bored?…I didn’t know I needed fucking medication for the thing that half the people in my school suffer from. Lack of interest? Maybe if I didn’t live in this shit hole of a town!
I slammed my laptop closed and stormed out of my room, almost trampling Henry on the way out. I’m not going to sit here and make myself even more upset trying to make my parents happy.
If they want me to be happy they’d be here with me right now wouldn’t they?…Not out with whatever family member they’re sucking the life out of for the week this time.
I walked into the kitchen and threw the letter that got me into this whole mess on the floor. It was from my school and their concern “overall wellbeing” as they put it. My mom freaked out when she got the letter, and my dad, as always, was there to let her know that he warned her about this, he was right all along about me not being “right”.
Well thank you for waiting for my last year of high school to show some sort of interest in how I‘m doing. I fucking love my school.
It didn’t take too long after that letter for my mom to start making phone calls to half the world to get me some help. As much as they made it seem like they wanted to help, like they really cared….it was all a sick act. My mom didn’t want it to seem as though she had actually messed up. As though her 17 years of “hard work” had all gone down the drain and I would be deemed a failure.
And my dad?…Well he’s always been talking his crap about how I needed to get out. Asking me all these questions about why I never have anyone over…Why I don’t join a sports team…Why I’m home all day.
And then there was Charlie. Charlie with the cheesy grin, Charlie with the firm handshake, Charlie the-40- something-year old man who thinks he can connect with me.
He must have some ulterior motive for having me write these stupid entries…I bet he hangs them up in his office for all his colleges to see, but its not like it matters…most of it is just my random ramblings and only about 40% of it is actually factual information.
He doesn’t need to know that there might be some slight chance that I have feelings, even interests in other people. And he sure as hell doesn’t need to know about how flustered I get around this one person.
In fact…no one needs to know that. That’s personal and no one but Frank Iero needs to know about that. No one needs to know about my spending countless hours in class just staring at the back of this persons head, or the fact that if he were to speak to me…I might actually try to carry out a conversation with him, if I remember how to speak that is..
Yea…I said he…guess we know what that means…Don’t let that slip out in front of Charlie, he might prescribe me a homosexuality pill.
Bastard.
Even just thinking about him and the fact that he reminds me so much of myself brings a small smile to my face, all the times I’ve watched him sit in the corner of the room and just draw. I don’t know what he’s drawing but he knows what he’s doing, and I can tell it makes him happy. I can see the small smile play on his lips as he takes out a sharpener to clean up his pencils. I admire him because while he’s there doing something productive…I’m THINKING to myself.
I apologized to Henry and left him a small treat by his bowl for almost trampling him. I gave him a small pat on the head as I zipped up my jacket and walked out for my next appointment with…
Charlie.
5:13 PM
5:15 PM
5:17 PM
Thursday, October 11th, 2007 5:20 PM
Goddammit….How does it take so long to write the time Frank?…It’s the odd numbers that’s what it fucking is.
Well maybe if you’d stop looking at your phone.
They’re not coming home today…they’re just not, get over it.
I groaned in frustration as I continued writing in my journal, or rather as I made an attempt to type up a useless entry of how my day had gone. Charlie says it’ll help with the anxiety but so far, all it seems to have done for me is piss me off and make me see how worthless I really am.
Charlie’s my therapist, though I should be calling him Mr. Lake…he believes it’ll make me feel closer to him as a person if we go on a first name basis. Yes, because I really would love to feel close to a man who smells of Old Spice and graham crackers and wastes all of my parents’ money getting me to talk about what was on my mind for the week.
Don’t get me wrong…He’s a nice guy and all…I just hate getting close to anyone and I guess that’s where my problems begin. I’m the kid in class who’ll sit in the back and do all the work but once the time comes to work in groups or something along those lines, I’ll do anything and everything to get my ass out of there. It gets to the point where I get physically sick thinking about the potential prospect of getting up in front of a class of scum bags and having to recite god knows what.
You’re doing that thing again….You’re talking to yourself…
Fuck why am I sweating so much?
I’m not TALKING to myself…its more of…THINKING to myself….yea that’s it…what’s wrong with that?
Apparently there is something wrong with that, at least when you THINK to yourself about the sorts of things I do. It says so right here on this little bottle…hang on I’ll go get it..
Fuck Dammit…Why do you feel the need to narrate your entire life?…Fuck these pills they’re making this shit worse..
I got up and went over to the kitchen cabinet, pushing a few bottles around until I found the one I was looking for. I took two of the pills and walked back over to my desk, unlocking my computer again as I looked at the time.
DAMMIT!
5:43 PM
I sat there for another minute waiting for the clock to change to the time I wanted. I chewed on my lip, looking all around the room until I saw that I had missed the fucking chance and it was now reading…
5:45 PM
You know what?…Screw this. What’s wrong with talking to myself? You’re not fucking talking to yourself, you’re not speaking out loud, its all in your head…That’s where it always is. What good will it do me to write about this shit or talk to someone about this? Who wants to read about 17 year old Frank Iero, psychological marvel…Look up “Socially Inept” and you’ll see a picture of me sticking my middle finger up at you. Or for a good laugh , flip through to “Avolition” and you’ll find me sitting in the room with Charlie, as he’s scribbling away in his notebook and I’m half asleep.
I don’t need a medical term to label me and further outcast me from whatever I actually fit in with. “Avolition”…I’m sorry…I thought normal people found that to mean bored?…I didn’t know I needed fucking medication for the thing that half the people in my school suffer from. Lack of interest? Maybe if I didn’t live in this shit hole of a town!
I slammed my laptop closed and stormed out of my room, almost trampling Henry on the way out. I’m not going to sit here and make myself even more upset trying to make my parents happy.
If they want me to be happy they’d be here with me right now wouldn’t they?…Not out with whatever family member they’re sucking the life out of for the week this time.
I walked into the kitchen and threw the letter that got me into this whole mess on the floor. It was from my school and their concern “overall wellbeing” as they put it. My mom freaked out when she got the letter, and my dad, as always, was there to let her know that he warned her about this, he was right all along about me not being “right”.
Well thank you for waiting for my last year of high school to show some sort of interest in how I‘m doing. I fucking love my school.
It didn’t take too long after that letter for my mom to start making phone calls to half the world to get me some help. As much as they made it seem like they wanted to help, like they really cared….it was all a sick act. My mom didn’t want it to seem as though she had actually messed up. As though her 17 years of “hard work” had all gone down the drain and I would be deemed a failure.
And my dad?…Well he’s always been talking his crap about how I needed to get out. Asking me all these questions about why I never have anyone over…Why I don’t join a sports team…Why I’m home all day.
And then there was Charlie. Charlie with the cheesy grin, Charlie with the firm handshake, Charlie the-40- something-year old man who thinks he can connect with me.
He must have some ulterior motive for having me write these stupid entries…I bet he hangs them up in his office for all his colleges to see, but its not like it matters…most of it is just my random ramblings and only about 40% of it is actually factual information.
He doesn’t need to know that there might be some slight chance that I have feelings, even interests in other people. And he sure as hell doesn’t need to know about how flustered I get around this one person.
In fact…no one needs to know that. That’s personal and no one but Frank Iero needs to know about that. No one needs to know about my spending countless hours in class just staring at the back of this persons head, or the fact that if he were to speak to me…I might actually try to carry out a conversation with him, if I remember how to speak that is..
Yea…I said he…guess we know what that means…Don’t let that slip out in front of Charlie, he might prescribe me a homosexuality pill.
Bastard.
Even just thinking about him and the fact that he reminds me so much of myself brings a small smile to my face, all the times I’ve watched him sit in the corner of the room and just draw. I don’t know what he’s drawing but he knows what he’s doing, and I can tell it makes him happy. I can see the small smile play on his lips as he takes out a sharpener to clean up his pencils. I admire him because while he’s there doing something productive…I’m THINKING to myself.
I apologized to Henry and left him a small treat by his bowl for almost trampling him. I gave him a small pat on the head as I zipped up my jacket and walked out for my next appointment with…
Charlie.
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