Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Sick with myself, but I've got no one else,
so I give it to myself
It’s the only thing that helps
It's the same thing
This pain thing
That keeps me from sleeping
and screaming that god
I must be motherfucking dreaming
And I can rest in peace and at least cease to be
Cease to see those things in me
That make me wanna cease to breath
and ceased to need and ceased to feed,
Sickness that's in me
this is all that I can be
I can breathe if I bleed
Mikey sat alone in his bedroom, cross legged on his bed. He should have been heading downstairs by now to join his family, but for what seemed like the thousandth time, he couldn’t go outside. He knew they were worried, he knew they wanted to help him, but-
They can’t help me. I don’t expect them to anyway. Everyone would be better off if I just-Just what? He ripped another piece of paper off a notepad, crumpled it up and sent it flying to the floor, to roll under the bed. Next to him, items that were once so foreign to him, but now so unbearably commonplace. Sock, bandage, shiny razor. He glanced at them quickly before looking at his reflection in the mirror opposite him. He looked fine. Maybe he was fine. He himself thought he was acting very calm and mature. He flung the notepad to the floor and turned to his neat line of tools, spread on the sheet. He picked up the razor-
I wouldn’t want to worry them, wouldn’t want to-
And placed it on his wrist firmly, pressing down and dragging it, leaving a thin white line that soon flooded with red. He smiled to himself, feeling a little better. A knock on the door startled him, making him jump.
“Mikey?” It was his brother.
“Yes?”
Wouldn’t want to worry-
“Are you okay?”
He thought about it. Was he okay? He glanced down at his wrist, full of old scars, new scars, scars that had needed stitches but had been left, scars that had become infected and almost killed him, thin and thick, red or faded pink, or still scabby and brown, or almost white-
Don’t you dare. You’re fine, see? Tell them. They’ll just get upset, they don’t need you whining at them for help, do they? Forget it, you’re fine, fine, fine.
“Yeah Gee, I’ll be fine.” He tucked his precious instrument under his pillow and pulled his sleeve down as he walked to the door and opened it. “Hey.” He said.
Gerard looked around suspiciously, before his glare rested on Mikey. His eyes scanned his little brother up and down before resting on his face. “Have you been dieting or something? You’re like a stick!” Mikey shook his head “Er, not t hat I’m aware of…” Gerard shrugged. “Well, I’m going down to Maxwell’s, alright? Frank called, said he’ll be over at four. See you later.” Mikey nodded and shut the door.
Gerard paused outside his brother’s door, in the hallway. Mikey had seemed much smaller, more pale. Oh well, he thought; If Mikey had any serious problems, he knew he could talk to his big brother Gee.
Mikey sat back on his bed, and felt under his pillow. He was glad Gerard was gone. Not glad he had chosen to remark on his small frame. His clothes hung off him, he was naturally skinny. He wasn’t trying to get thinner or anything, he just wasn’t interested in food. He stared into the mirror, razor in hand. He raised his hand, closed his eyes, and started it all again…
I don't know why I cut myself, god, give me a sign or help
I wont cry it'll be fine,
I'll take my last breath
push it out my chest till there’s nothing left
I know that my minds near the end, god, I hurt myself and fell
I wont cry it'll be fine,
I'll take my last breath
push it out my chest till there’s nothing left
He felt the tears crawl into his eyes, but he wiped them away stubbornly-
Why am I crying? Is there something wrong?
No. Nothing was wrong. He ignored thee impatient knocks on the front door, the yelling from just outside it.
“Hey Mikey I know you’re in there…”
“Go away, go away….” Mikey whispered in reply, knowing Frankie couldn’t hear him, but saying regardless.
He couldn’t think, couldn’t get a sentence out straight. He didn’t want to see his friend, or anyone else. He felt sick, confused. He looked to the ceiling, then out the window. He had no one to ask help from, he didn’t want-
To be ridiculed-
To bother his friends or family. He just wanted to leave… To disappear without a trace. He picked up a new razor and slid to the floor to begin his work, once again. He thought of what Frank said when he saw some of the cuts. It had been a long time ago, a few years back… Sleep it off. Mikey couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t. Didn’t want to shut his eyes. Mikey couldn’t eat, laugh, smile, talk. He felt ill, plagued by a mystery sickness that took him over entirely. He looked at the door again with wide eyes before he wiped blood off his wrist and continued. Mikey didn’t want this. But he didn’t want to be there either. He was ready, ready to leave. And after all, it only stung a little, only a little…
Have you ever met a living legend, just a real friend
who planned his end and where do I began
you said it was pretend.
And when the bullet
went through it took more then just you,
it took two it was you
it was me and suddenly
How can someone say they're helpless
and then they act so selfish
You put me through hell with this so fuck you lets just end this
And what about our friendship?
what you did was senseless.
You thought you found an exit?
Like I said lets end this.
Frank had waited long enough. He walked around to the Way’s backyard, and opened the back door, which was unlocked. He didn’t know what was going on inside, why his best friend was sitting in the lounge room not opening the door.
“Mikey?” Frank said, opening Mikey’s door and walking in, looking around. He must still be in the lounge room, Frank thought. He walked down the stairs, and couldn’t see his friend.
Maybe he’s not here, he thought. Maybe…
Mikey’s behaviour had definitely become increasingly disturbing lately. Frank had just assumed it was a phase, and had listened politely to the long hysterical conferences, and had kindly sat by his best friend’s side as he cried. But most recently, Mikey had stopped. Stopped talking to Frank about anything regarding his feelings. He had been acting more or less normally, if not a little withdrawn and quiet. Frank guessed he had known something was seriously wrong, and had done everything he could to help his friend, having long phone conversations with Mikey’s older brother Gerard about him and desperately trying to get Mikey himself to talk, but he figured the best he could do was keep a watchful eye on him, and today he had a feeling something was wrong.
He walked into the bathroom, peeked down into Gerard’s room (the basement) and finally the kitchen.
“Oh my god, Mikey.”
Frank’s first impulse was to slap his friend. The rage inside him burned bright. How could he do this?
“What are you doing?” Frank hissed at Mikey, kneeling beside him to squeeze his wrist and hopefully stop some of the bleeding. Mikey was muttering, but Frank wasn’t hearing anything. He got his phone out of his pocket and called Gerard.
“Gerard, come to your house right now, Mikey needs help.” Was all he said, before he hung up and dialled 911, choked out an address and dropped his phone to the floor. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He sobbed. “You promised me you wouldn’t, ever again. You promised.”
“Frank, I’m really really sorry… But just… Don’t. I’ll be fine, everything will be fine.” Mikey whispered. “I’m really sick, and this is just best. For everyone.” Frank shook Mikey’s uninjured shoulder angrily “No!” He screamed hysterically. “It’s not best for me! I can’t live without you, Mikey…”
I just wanna say good bye, Disappear with no one knowing
I don't wanna live this lie, smiling to the world unknowing
I don't want you to try, you've done enough to keep me going
I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine for the very last time.
When Gerard arrived home, 3 minutes before the ambulance, his brother Mikey was already dead, his best friend Frank curled up beside him, sobbing and pleading.
I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine for the very last time.
Yeah, this is just a little oneshot to get me back in the zone. I like it, so yeah.
The song is "The Loss" by Hollywood Undead. It's a very good song.
Anyway, let me know your thoughts, please.
xxElisabeth.
P.S: Expect to see more of Keep The Faith soon. It's making a comeback
so I give it to myself
It’s the only thing that helps
It's the same thing
This pain thing
That keeps me from sleeping
and screaming that god
I must be motherfucking dreaming
And I can rest in peace and at least cease to be
Cease to see those things in me
That make me wanna cease to breath
and ceased to need and ceased to feed,
Sickness that's in me
this is all that I can be
I can breathe if I bleed
Mikey sat alone in his bedroom, cross legged on his bed. He should have been heading downstairs by now to join his family, but for what seemed like the thousandth time, he couldn’t go outside. He knew they were worried, he knew they wanted to help him, but-
They can’t help me. I don’t expect them to anyway. Everyone would be better off if I just-Just what? He ripped another piece of paper off a notepad, crumpled it up and sent it flying to the floor, to roll under the bed. Next to him, items that were once so foreign to him, but now so unbearably commonplace. Sock, bandage, shiny razor. He glanced at them quickly before looking at his reflection in the mirror opposite him. He looked fine. Maybe he was fine. He himself thought he was acting very calm and mature. He flung the notepad to the floor and turned to his neat line of tools, spread on the sheet. He picked up the razor-
I wouldn’t want to worry them, wouldn’t want to-
And placed it on his wrist firmly, pressing down and dragging it, leaving a thin white line that soon flooded with red. He smiled to himself, feeling a little better. A knock on the door startled him, making him jump.
“Mikey?” It was his brother.
“Yes?”
Wouldn’t want to worry-
“Are you okay?”
He thought about it. Was he okay? He glanced down at his wrist, full of old scars, new scars, scars that had needed stitches but had been left, scars that had become infected and almost killed him, thin and thick, red or faded pink, or still scabby and brown, or almost white-
Don’t you dare. You’re fine, see? Tell them. They’ll just get upset, they don’t need you whining at them for help, do they? Forget it, you’re fine, fine, fine.
“Yeah Gee, I’ll be fine.” He tucked his precious instrument under his pillow and pulled his sleeve down as he walked to the door and opened it. “Hey.” He said.
Gerard looked around suspiciously, before his glare rested on Mikey. His eyes scanned his little brother up and down before resting on his face. “Have you been dieting or something? You’re like a stick!” Mikey shook his head “Er, not t hat I’m aware of…” Gerard shrugged. “Well, I’m going down to Maxwell’s, alright? Frank called, said he’ll be over at four. See you later.” Mikey nodded and shut the door.
Gerard paused outside his brother’s door, in the hallway. Mikey had seemed much smaller, more pale. Oh well, he thought; If Mikey had any serious problems, he knew he could talk to his big brother Gee.
Mikey sat back on his bed, and felt under his pillow. He was glad Gerard was gone. Not glad he had chosen to remark on his small frame. His clothes hung off him, he was naturally skinny. He wasn’t trying to get thinner or anything, he just wasn’t interested in food. He stared into the mirror, razor in hand. He raised his hand, closed his eyes, and started it all again…
I don't know why I cut myself, god, give me a sign or help
I wont cry it'll be fine,
I'll take my last breath
push it out my chest till there’s nothing left
I know that my minds near the end, god, I hurt myself and fell
I wont cry it'll be fine,
I'll take my last breath
push it out my chest till there’s nothing left
He felt the tears crawl into his eyes, but he wiped them away stubbornly-
Why am I crying? Is there something wrong?
No. Nothing was wrong. He ignored thee impatient knocks on the front door, the yelling from just outside it.
“Hey Mikey I know you’re in there…”
“Go away, go away….” Mikey whispered in reply, knowing Frankie couldn’t hear him, but saying regardless.
He couldn’t think, couldn’t get a sentence out straight. He didn’t want to see his friend, or anyone else. He felt sick, confused. He looked to the ceiling, then out the window. He had no one to ask help from, he didn’t want-
To be ridiculed-
To bother his friends or family. He just wanted to leave… To disappear without a trace. He picked up a new razor and slid to the floor to begin his work, once again. He thought of what Frank said when he saw some of the cuts. It had been a long time ago, a few years back… Sleep it off. Mikey couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t. Didn’t want to shut his eyes. Mikey couldn’t eat, laugh, smile, talk. He felt ill, plagued by a mystery sickness that took him over entirely. He looked at the door again with wide eyes before he wiped blood off his wrist and continued. Mikey didn’t want this. But he didn’t want to be there either. He was ready, ready to leave. And after all, it only stung a little, only a little…
Have you ever met a living legend, just a real friend
who planned his end and where do I began
you said it was pretend.
And when the bullet
went through it took more then just you,
it took two it was you
it was me and suddenly
How can someone say they're helpless
and then they act so selfish
You put me through hell with this so fuck you lets just end this
And what about our friendship?
what you did was senseless.
You thought you found an exit?
Like I said lets end this.
Frank had waited long enough. He walked around to the Way’s backyard, and opened the back door, which was unlocked. He didn’t know what was going on inside, why his best friend was sitting in the lounge room not opening the door.
“Mikey?” Frank said, opening Mikey’s door and walking in, looking around. He must still be in the lounge room, Frank thought. He walked down the stairs, and couldn’t see his friend.
Maybe he’s not here, he thought. Maybe…
Mikey’s behaviour had definitely become increasingly disturbing lately. Frank had just assumed it was a phase, and had listened politely to the long hysterical conferences, and had kindly sat by his best friend’s side as he cried. But most recently, Mikey had stopped. Stopped talking to Frank about anything regarding his feelings. He had been acting more or less normally, if not a little withdrawn and quiet. Frank guessed he had known something was seriously wrong, and had done everything he could to help his friend, having long phone conversations with Mikey’s older brother Gerard about him and desperately trying to get Mikey himself to talk, but he figured the best he could do was keep a watchful eye on him, and today he had a feeling something was wrong.
He walked into the bathroom, peeked down into Gerard’s room (the basement) and finally the kitchen.
“Oh my god, Mikey.”
Frank’s first impulse was to slap his friend. The rage inside him burned bright. How could he do this?
“What are you doing?” Frank hissed at Mikey, kneeling beside him to squeeze his wrist and hopefully stop some of the bleeding. Mikey was muttering, but Frank wasn’t hearing anything. He got his phone out of his pocket and called Gerard.
“Gerard, come to your house right now, Mikey needs help.” Was all he said, before he hung up and dialled 911, choked out an address and dropped his phone to the floor. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He sobbed. “You promised me you wouldn’t, ever again. You promised.”
“Frank, I’m really really sorry… But just… Don’t. I’ll be fine, everything will be fine.” Mikey whispered. “I’m really sick, and this is just best. For everyone.” Frank shook Mikey’s uninjured shoulder angrily “No!” He screamed hysterically. “It’s not best for me! I can’t live without you, Mikey…”
I just wanna say good bye, Disappear with no one knowing
I don't wanna live this lie, smiling to the world unknowing
I don't want you to try, you've done enough to keep me going
I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine for the very last time.
When Gerard arrived home, 3 minutes before the ambulance, his brother Mikey was already dead, his best friend Frank curled up beside him, sobbing and pleading.
I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine for the very last time.
Yeah, this is just a little oneshot to get me back in the zone. I like it, so yeah.
The song is "The Loss" by Hollywood Undead. It's a very good song.
Anyway, let me know your thoughts, please.
xxElisabeth.
P.S: Expect to see more of Keep The Faith soon. It's making a comeback
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