Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Famous Last Words
I’d like to say that it wasn’t about me, but it is, every last word. Some of it is directed at me, some is taken from conversations and observations; things I wanted kept private. Nothing’s private for us, not really. And I understand that to a certain extent, but there are some things, some things I’d rather pretend had never happened, never mind draw attention to them. The therapist said I had to confront them and I didn’t want to. I resisted at every turn. I just wanted to brush it under the carpet and pretend it never happened. Gerard had other ideas. He’s my big brother and yes, I know he was just looking out for me, forcing me to face things I couldn’t, or wouldn’t. Making me do what the therapist said I had to do. I know why he did it, I do and I appreciate it. He pulled me through one of the biggest nightmares of my life, but there’s still a part of me that wishes he hadn’t. Like it or not. Dealt with, whatever that means, or not, it’ll always be there. Lurking in the shadows waiting to crush me again.
What am I talking about? The Paramour Mansion and a song on The Black Parade. The final one, well, kind of. Famous Last Words. Even the title is a constant but subtle reminder to me of what happened. In public, I said that the song had become triumphant at my return to the band, but that was just to stop people asking me about it. If I didn’t seem concerned, hopefully neither would they. On top of that, in interviews, the guys fielded a lot of the questions that were really aimed at me. They protected me, like they always do, like I’d do for them.
I knew. As soon as we arrived, I knew I didn’t like it. Or rather, it didn’t like me. I didn’t say anything. I just didn’t want to be the only one to sound negative. There was a feeling, a sensation that just lived in the walls. It’s so hard to describe but have you ever just known that something was very, very wrong? That you shouldn’t be somewhere and that it’s not all in your mind? That the place itself is telling you, screaming at you to get out? Well I ignored it, like I’m sure most people would. We would live and record there for several months and it was almost as long in the planning. We were committed. Nothing I could say would change that and all it would achieve would be to bring everyone else down. I held it all in, like I do everything else. But this time… this time everything would eventually spill out. I was like a time bomb and the moment we stepped through the door, I could almost hear the ticking.
It wasn’t immediate. We had been there several weeks before things started to go… I nearly said ‘wrong’, but that’s not quite right. I suppose the nearest I can get to it is to say things were getting odd. The oppressive nature of the house seemed to seep into me and take my mind off to places unknown. I tried to block it out with anti-depressants and booze. It was a combination that I knew worked, well, when I say worked, what I really mean is that it reduced everything to a blur. I didn’t have to cope because I wasn’t aware there was anything to cope with. It was stupid and dangerous. Worse still, to my mind at any rate, the last thing I wanted was for Gerard to see me in a drunken stupor every day. So, I tried to hold back, but when I did, they got in and I did, saw and heard things I’d really rather forget.
The first I was really aware of the problems I would face was when I walked down to breakfast that morning. The other guys where huddled around the table talking quietly in hushed and urgent whispers. As soon as I appeared in the open doorway, all talk stopped and they stared at me. Eight eyes boring into me with mixed expressions: curiosity, concern and expectant.
“What?” I asked.
I didn’t move from that spot until they finally spoke; of course it was Gerard.
“How are you, Mikes?” he said waving me over to join them.
“I’m not dumb, I know you were talking about me,” I grumbled, irritated by their assumption that I wouldn’t realise. I’d been getting irritable a lot lately, we all had. The others thought it was the problems we were having with the album, but it wasn’t, it was the house and I seemed to be the only one that realised it.
“Yeah, Mikey,” Ray nodded. “We were, I was telling them about last night. We’re just worried, that’s all.”
I slid into my seat and stared at them for a few moments. It was still early and I hadn’t been sleeping well, I just wanted some coffee. I was definitely not in the mood for games.
“What about last night?” I asked as I pulled the pot off the stand and poured myself a large mug of steaming black coffee.
“I heard a noise just after three-thirty. You were walking around the house…”
My head snapped up at Ray’s words. Somehow deep inside I knew there was more, but I was already in denial.
“You were crying.”
My head went back down to my mug.
“Ray, I think you need to…”
I exhaled noisily as I stood up quickly and stepped away from the table, my chair clattering back onto the kitchen floor.
“Mikes!” Ray called after me as I stormed from the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted to keep it secret.”
“Grow up, Ray!” I shouted as I turned back to face them. “It didn’t happen, okay? It didn’t happen!”
And I was gone. I knew it was just not like me to act like that and I knew as soon as I was out the door that they were saying the same thing. I needed space and I knew I wasn’t going to get it. This house, this huge house had me trapped. I was smothered by my brother and friends and at the same time I was very alone. I couldn’t explain it. It was like my brain was being assaulted by so much stimuli and I had no idea how to deal with it. No idea what it was doing to me.
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A/N Interested? Shall I continue?
What am I talking about? The Paramour Mansion and a song on The Black Parade. The final one, well, kind of. Famous Last Words. Even the title is a constant but subtle reminder to me of what happened. In public, I said that the song had become triumphant at my return to the band, but that was just to stop people asking me about it. If I didn’t seem concerned, hopefully neither would they. On top of that, in interviews, the guys fielded a lot of the questions that were really aimed at me. They protected me, like they always do, like I’d do for them.
I knew. As soon as we arrived, I knew I didn’t like it. Or rather, it didn’t like me. I didn’t say anything. I just didn’t want to be the only one to sound negative. There was a feeling, a sensation that just lived in the walls. It’s so hard to describe but have you ever just known that something was very, very wrong? That you shouldn’t be somewhere and that it’s not all in your mind? That the place itself is telling you, screaming at you to get out? Well I ignored it, like I’m sure most people would. We would live and record there for several months and it was almost as long in the planning. We were committed. Nothing I could say would change that and all it would achieve would be to bring everyone else down. I held it all in, like I do everything else. But this time… this time everything would eventually spill out. I was like a time bomb and the moment we stepped through the door, I could almost hear the ticking.
It wasn’t immediate. We had been there several weeks before things started to go… I nearly said ‘wrong’, but that’s not quite right. I suppose the nearest I can get to it is to say things were getting odd. The oppressive nature of the house seemed to seep into me and take my mind off to places unknown. I tried to block it out with anti-depressants and booze. It was a combination that I knew worked, well, when I say worked, what I really mean is that it reduced everything to a blur. I didn’t have to cope because I wasn’t aware there was anything to cope with. It was stupid and dangerous. Worse still, to my mind at any rate, the last thing I wanted was for Gerard to see me in a drunken stupor every day. So, I tried to hold back, but when I did, they got in and I did, saw and heard things I’d really rather forget.
The first I was really aware of the problems I would face was when I walked down to breakfast that morning. The other guys where huddled around the table talking quietly in hushed and urgent whispers. As soon as I appeared in the open doorway, all talk stopped and they stared at me. Eight eyes boring into me with mixed expressions: curiosity, concern and expectant.
“What?” I asked.
I didn’t move from that spot until they finally spoke; of course it was Gerard.
“How are you, Mikes?” he said waving me over to join them.
“I’m not dumb, I know you were talking about me,” I grumbled, irritated by their assumption that I wouldn’t realise. I’d been getting irritable a lot lately, we all had. The others thought it was the problems we were having with the album, but it wasn’t, it was the house and I seemed to be the only one that realised it.
“Yeah, Mikey,” Ray nodded. “We were, I was telling them about last night. We’re just worried, that’s all.”
I slid into my seat and stared at them for a few moments. It was still early and I hadn’t been sleeping well, I just wanted some coffee. I was definitely not in the mood for games.
“What about last night?” I asked as I pulled the pot off the stand and poured myself a large mug of steaming black coffee.
“I heard a noise just after three-thirty. You were walking around the house…”
My head snapped up at Ray’s words. Somehow deep inside I knew there was more, but I was already in denial.
“You were crying.”
My head went back down to my mug.
“Ray, I think you need to…”
I exhaled noisily as I stood up quickly and stepped away from the table, my chair clattering back onto the kitchen floor.
“Mikes!” Ray called after me as I stormed from the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted to keep it secret.”
“Grow up, Ray!” I shouted as I turned back to face them. “It didn’t happen, okay? It didn’t happen!”
And I was gone. I knew it was just not like me to act like that and I knew as soon as I was out the door that they were saying the same thing. I needed space and I knew I wasn’t going to get it. This house, this huge house had me trapped. I was smothered by my brother and friends and at the same time I was very alone. I couldn’t explain it. It was like my brain was being assaulted by so much stimuli and I had no idea how to deal with it. No idea what it was doing to me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N Interested? Shall I continue?
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