Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Angel Claw
Short but I'm back. I've been back for a couple of days now but just hadn't posted anything. You find out certain things I didn't want to "reveal" until much later but I decided to put it out there; it's time for recovery. This is a strange chapter. I know, alot of people will be annoyed at the ending. But don't be alarmed! It most likely isn't what you think, I promise.
And from here and there on in - if my writing seems to get dark and strange, I apologize in advance!
Another thing;
R.I.P James "Jimmy" Sullivan (The Rev) - He was an awesome drummer and a hilarous person. I'm going to miss you among the thousands of others.
Gerard’s P.O.V
Messed up. That’s all life ever seems to be able to do, mess up. People may not see this as a fucked up situation, but when you’re holding someone, scared that when you move once inch they shall fall to pieces? When I brought Waqaar back to out cabin, he refused to let go. His knuckles were turning pure white from squeezing my shirt so tightly. His face completely red from crying, his breathing erratic. So now I sit perched up against the wall my cabin bed is pushed against, while a boy is clinging to me. It reminds me of the times Mikey used to be while having panic attacks, my mother and father couldn’t help because they were working. I can’t stand to see people weak. I gently massage Waqaar’s neck and try to wipe his tears away every so often. I don’t know what to do. Hello Angel, tell me where are you? Tell me where we go from here, please tell me.
“G-Gerard?” Waqaar didn’t lift his head. “I know you must t-think of me as a “sinner” and a disgusting being to my religion, I am sorry, truly.”
To say I was taken back by this would be a understatement. Since I’ve came here I’ve saw absolutely nothing but devotion from this man for his religion.
“Waqaar, stop talking bull, ever since I’ve known you I’ve quite literally never saw anyone so stuck into religion and I was brought up in a Christian family. What makes you think that?” I patted Waqaar’s head.
He slowly blinked and twitched a little, “here I am, clinging to another man, showing every weakness I’ve ever felt, giving up praying for my own weakness, letting myself go out of control like this, crying! Letting you hold me like this - it just isn’t right.”
My mouth lies agape, “No Waqaar, this is good, to let you walls down sometimes and just cry, you need to do it sometime. It is in every humans nature to loose control sometimes. Remember, you are human. And cuddling with a man is no sin, man.”
After that - silence. Silence was all to be heard because sometimes it can be such a noisy sound. You're not in this alone. Let me break this awkward silence.
“What happened? I mean the odd behaviour I don't get it…” I said, not being able to put it into words.
I looked down at Waqaar, his expression looking uneasy. Tears forming in his eyes. Damn it.
“Schizophrenia, I suffer from Schizophrenia. My parents refused to let me bring my pills with me to camp in case people will pity me, shame me. That Allah might also turn his back on me because of the nasty voices inside my head. It hurts.”
I remained silent. Quiet beyond belief. My lips sealed tight. I don't know what to say. I don’t know how to react.
“You think I'm disgusting now too!” Waqaar erupted into another fit of sobs.
“No! No, never. I just don’t know what to say. I really don't” I lower my eyes and again wipe away the remains of Waqaar’s tears.
“Gerard, if I ask you of something will you promise not to hurt me or hate me? It's wrong, very wrong but I just need to see.” He bites his lip.
“I promise.”
“Will you kiss me?” Waqaar's question hangs in the air.
I just can't.
And from here and there on in - if my writing seems to get dark and strange, I apologize in advance!
Another thing;
R.I.P James "Jimmy" Sullivan (The Rev) - He was an awesome drummer and a hilarous person. I'm going to miss you among the thousands of others.
Gerard’s P.O.V
Messed up. That’s all life ever seems to be able to do, mess up. People may not see this as a fucked up situation, but when you’re holding someone, scared that when you move once inch they shall fall to pieces? When I brought Waqaar back to out cabin, he refused to let go. His knuckles were turning pure white from squeezing my shirt so tightly. His face completely red from crying, his breathing erratic. So now I sit perched up against the wall my cabin bed is pushed against, while a boy is clinging to me. It reminds me of the times Mikey used to be while having panic attacks, my mother and father couldn’t help because they were working. I can’t stand to see people weak. I gently massage Waqaar’s neck and try to wipe his tears away every so often. I don’t know what to do. Hello Angel, tell me where are you? Tell me where we go from here, please tell me.
“G-Gerard?” Waqaar didn’t lift his head. “I know you must t-think of me as a “sinner” and a disgusting being to my religion, I am sorry, truly.”
To say I was taken back by this would be a understatement. Since I’ve came here I’ve saw absolutely nothing but devotion from this man for his religion.
“Waqaar, stop talking bull, ever since I’ve known you I’ve quite literally never saw anyone so stuck into religion and I was brought up in a Christian family. What makes you think that?” I patted Waqaar’s head.
He slowly blinked and twitched a little, “here I am, clinging to another man, showing every weakness I’ve ever felt, giving up praying for my own weakness, letting myself go out of control like this, crying! Letting you hold me like this - it just isn’t right.”
My mouth lies agape, “No Waqaar, this is good, to let you walls down sometimes and just cry, you need to do it sometime. It is in every humans nature to loose control sometimes. Remember, you are human. And cuddling with a man is no sin, man.”
After that - silence. Silence was all to be heard because sometimes it can be such a noisy sound. You're not in this alone. Let me break this awkward silence.
“What happened? I mean the odd behaviour I don't get it…” I said, not being able to put it into words.
I looked down at Waqaar, his expression looking uneasy. Tears forming in his eyes. Damn it.
“Schizophrenia, I suffer from Schizophrenia. My parents refused to let me bring my pills with me to camp in case people will pity me, shame me. That Allah might also turn his back on me because of the nasty voices inside my head. It hurts.”
I remained silent. Quiet beyond belief. My lips sealed tight. I don't know what to say. I don’t know how to react.
“You think I'm disgusting now too!” Waqaar erupted into another fit of sobs.
“No! No, never. I just don’t know what to say. I really don't” I lower my eyes and again wipe away the remains of Waqaar’s tears.
“Gerard, if I ask you of something will you promise not to hurt me or hate me? It's wrong, very wrong but I just need to see.” He bites his lip.
“I promise.”
“Will you kiss me?” Waqaar's question hangs in the air.
I just can't.
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