Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Fourth Drink Instinct
January 4, 2010.
Zack, I cut myself again last night.
Even though I promised Frank I wouldn't.
I think, if anything, he's a reason to get a grip and stop.
I love him. He's so disappointed in me today.
I feel like crap.
It just makes me want to die.
I don't like to disappoint him, I like to make him happy.
But I had to, you don't understand.
I had to. I needed the pain, the blood. The pills.
Yeah. I took pills too.
He won't talk to me today.
I tried to apologize and I tried to make things better, but he won't talk.
Ray and Bob and Mikey sympathyze, but they don't really understand.
I know Frank does, a little at least.
He went through partially the same thing.
But he hates me now.
Maybe if I try and talk about my feelings, and I show him, he'll feel better. Maybe he'll forgive me.
I need someone to be here to support me who knows somewhat what I'm going through. I need him. So here I go.
Back to when I first started. I was...desperate, after a while.
I began drinking and smoking and so many other drugs.
I'd go through hundreds of dollars worth of drinks and drugs each night...it was so bad.
I just needed an escape. I needed to be saved.
When I was drunk...or high even, everything seemed right.
I didn't care as much what others thought.
Life was wonderful.
It went on for so long that it began to...not help.
I turned back to cutting. The small cuts and slits turned to large gashes.
Blood would run down my arm in crimson rivers and soak into my sleeves, pooling on the floor.
I'd often pass out.
All I wanted was to make it end.
To stop feeling so alone, to make myself feel worthy, loved.
I used to sink so low.
One night I met Frank, and everything changed.
I think Frank's coming to talk to me. I'll write more tomorrow, Zachary.
-Gerard.
Zack, I cut myself again last night.
Even though I promised Frank I wouldn't.
I think, if anything, he's a reason to get a grip and stop.
I love him. He's so disappointed in me today.
I feel like crap.
It just makes me want to die.
I don't like to disappoint him, I like to make him happy.
But I had to, you don't understand.
I had to. I needed the pain, the blood. The pills.
Yeah. I took pills too.
He won't talk to me today.
I tried to apologize and I tried to make things better, but he won't talk.
Ray and Bob and Mikey sympathyze, but they don't really understand.
I know Frank does, a little at least.
He went through partially the same thing.
But he hates me now.
Maybe if I try and talk about my feelings, and I show him, he'll feel better. Maybe he'll forgive me.
I need someone to be here to support me who knows somewhat what I'm going through. I need him. So here I go.
Back to when I first started. I was...desperate, after a while.
I began drinking and smoking and so many other drugs.
I'd go through hundreds of dollars worth of drinks and drugs each night...it was so bad.
I just needed an escape. I needed to be saved.
When I was drunk...or high even, everything seemed right.
I didn't care as much what others thought.
Life was wonderful.
It went on for so long that it began to...not help.
I turned back to cutting. The small cuts and slits turned to large gashes.
Blood would run down my arm in crimson rivers and soak into my sleeves, pooling on the floor.
I'd often pass out.
All I wanted was to make it end.
To stop feeling so alone, to make myself feel worthy, loved.
I used to sink so low.
One night I met Frank, and everything changed.
I think Frank's coming to talk to me. I'll write more tomorrow, Zachary.
-Gerard.
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