Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Multicoloured Notebook
I own everything here apart from Mikey Way. And anything else that may get me sued. Everything wrote here is true. And obviously I changed bits and pieces, I think this mentions Gerard (which I'm really writing about my sister) so yeah, don't own him either. Reviews appreciated.
August 28th 2009.
13:03
You know I wish I started doing this in say, May/June 2007. Then I may be okay now. Or maybe if I told my mother when I was ten years old I think I'm depressed. Every parent wants that, right? The summer of '07, ten year old kid coming up to them and saying 'Mom, Dad, I think I'm depressed.' Oh and let's not forget the same summer, in June, when I first cut myself with a very, very sharp piece of glass. I didn't even feel it, at all.
I thought it was to blunt, I then carved 'Mikes' into a metal pole with the same piece of glass. It was night and I felt something run down my arm, I couldn't see it. I went into my house and there was blood running down my arm and my mother asked what happened, I lied and said 'I feel in glass.' But my brother knew I cut myself. But of course I lied to everyone. It annoys me like hell, because I hate liars. Hypocrite? Maybe. I think people may think I am is because I change every two god damn minutes. My thoughts, opinions.
I hardly have any solid opinions. I wish today would just die. The reason I'm writing in this today is because I'm scared that I'll relapse, self-harm again. Self-injury, it all fails. I'm not one just to cut, I'll burn, smack, hit, stick big, sharp, pointy things into me. It's not that I don't value life, hell, I love the whole concept of life but the past couple of years have just sucked. Maybe I could sleep this off? Well, I'm writing it off. Maybe it's why I read so much? To escape worlds or some cliche shit like that. Everything seems to be so cliche now. Like everything I just wrote about. Cliche.
Pip pip!
Time 13:55.
August 28th 2009.
13:03
You know I wish I started doing this in say, May/June 2007. Then I may be okay now. Or maybe if I told my mother when I was ten years old I think I'm depressed. Every parent wants that, right? The summer of '07, ten year old kid coming up to them and saying 'Mom, Dad, I think I'm depressed.' Oh and let's not forget the same summer, in June, when I first cut myself with a very, very sharp piece of glass. I didn't even feel it, at all.
I thought it was to blunt, I then carved 'Mikes' into a metal pole with the same piece of glass. It was night and I felt something run down my arm, I couldn't see it. I went into my house and there was blood running down my arm and my mother asked what happened, I lied and said 'I feel in glass.' But my brother knew I cut myself. But of course I lied to everyone. It annoys me like hell, because I hate liars. Hypocrite? Maybe. I think people may think I am is because I change every two god damn minutes. My thoughts, opinions.
I hardly have any solid opinions. I wish today would just die. The reason I'm writing in this today is because I'm scared that I'll relapse, self-harm again. Self-injury, it all fails. I'm not one just to cut, I'll burn, smack, hit, stick big, sharp, pointy things into me. It's not that I don't value life, hell, I love the whole concept of life but the past couple of years have just sucked. Maybe I could sleep this off? Well, I'm writing it off. Maybe it's why I read so much? To escape worlds or some cliche shit like that. Everything seems to be so cliche now. Like everything I just wrote about. Cliche.
Pip pip!
Time 13:55.
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