Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I Find It Hard To Stay
“But why would it hurt to let go of something that constantly plagues your thoughts?” Bob asked, raising an eyebrow.
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A month after Pen had lost her baby, the tour was over. After nearly five months with the people that had become her family, Pen was forced to make a decision: where would she go?
It wasn’t a question, really. From that day in the hospital, Pen and Bob had become inseparable. They were always together, and Bob had no intention of losing Penelope to anyone or anything again. And she was just as devoted to him, reluctant to leave his side for even a moment, because he became her protector from those bad parts of the world, and she felt immune to them when she had Bob. He was strong for her, and she gave him a new reason to be strong.
It wasn’t easy, but Pen was able to keep herself clean for another six months. With Bob’s help, she avoided all temptation, and she found new vices to keep her sane. Pen discovered a talent for writing poetry, and she even got a few pieces published in books, collections of poems by new authors. Bob was proud of her, and more importantly, she was finally proud of herself.
“Bob,” she said to him one morning over breakfast.
“Hmm?” he looked up. He had been thinking; it seemed to Pen that Bob spent a lot of time thinking lately.
“I was reading one of those self-help books yesterday, and I read something that reminded me of you. Would you like to hear it?”
“Shoot,” he said.
“Well, it said that if something happens to you and you don’t get over it, it can stay with you throughout the rest of your life. It said that telling yourself that you’ve moved on isn’t enough, because when you have to constantly remind yourself that you’re over it, you’re obviously not over it at all. The book said that to be truly done with that part of your life, you have to confront it again, and then you really have to let go, no matter how much it hurts.”
“But why would it hurt to let go of something that constantly plagues your thoughts?” Bob asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Because then, you don’t have an excuse to be upset. Because that means that you have to find ways to be happy again, and that can sometimes be more difficult than just accepting that you’re unhappy. But when you really are happy, it will be the simplest thing in the world to keep with you.”
Bob smiled across the table at her.
It was in this way that, a few days later, Pen and Bob were standing outside a cemetery just outside of Chicago, where they lived.
Pen squeezed his hand. “Are you ready?”
He tried to smile at her. “I think so. I guess we’ll find out.”
Hand in hand, they walked into the cemetery, past all the graves and headstones until they arrived at the one that Bob had revisited many times when he was a teenager, and then given up on when he’d decided to become an adult.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF GEORGE AND ALICE BRYAR
Bob knelt at the headstone, eyes racking over the all-too familiar scene before him. He remembered all of the tears that had watered the soil in this exact spot, what seemed like forever ago. He sniffed slightly, feeling fresh tears welling up in his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his dad’s marble bag. He upended it over the stone slab, watching the marbles crash and roll in all directions, some rolling off the stone and into the dirt, a few remaining on the smooth rock. His tears finally broke, slipping just outside his lids. Penelope knelt beside him, using the tips of her fingers to lift the tears off his face. He sniffed once more and grabbed her small hand in his, resting it on his cheek. He smiled over at her, exhaling slowly.
As the breath left his body, he felt something else rushing out with it: blame. All the blame he felt; blame of himself, of his parents, of everyone who had ever tried to tell him that they understood what he was going through, it all seemed to be exhaled. His shoulders raised, freed of an invisible weight, and he stood, straight and tall.
“How does it feel?” Penelope asked, standing with him.
“Like…nothing. I feel absolutely nothing. The guilt is gone, the blame, the hurt…right now, all I feel is love. And it’s the lightest feeling in the world.”
Penelope took both Bob’s hands in hers, squeezing them and smiling up at him. “I’m glad. I’m really glad,” she nodded.
“So am I,” he kissed the top of her head, making her giggle.
They walked out of the graveyard, hands clasped, connected by intertwining fingers, and perhaps something more.
“Penelope,” Bob said as they got into the car.
“Robert,” she mimicked his tone.
“Do you remember our deal?”
Penelope looked down at her lap then, fumbling with her hands. “I remember…” she murmured.
“Penelope,” he placed a hand beneath her chin, lifting her face so that she was looking at him. “I’m so grateful to you for helping me. Now you need to help yourself.”
Penelope gulped, then nodded. She smiled. “As long as you’re with me, I know I’ll be able to do it.”
“Do you remember where we’re going?” he asked her, getting onto the highway.
“I think I’ll be able to find it…” she said quietly, glancing out the window, nerves beginning to fill her body.
She hoped she could do this.
I don't think you actually understand how ridiculously tired I am right now. I was up at the crack of ass this morning, at the PGA golf torunament in Broken Sound by 7:30, and working fucking concessions by 8:00. You would not believe all the rich, snobby wasps that swarm those fucking golf tournaments. You know why Florida's called the "cemetery where everyone goes to die"? Because it's fucking filled with old people! They're great and all, but not when they're trying to get change out of a hundred after buying $15 worth of shit! Most of which is Bud or Michelobe Ultra-Light. Not to fucking mention, they yell at me because I don't know how to operate the demon-cash-register? Bite me! Eat shit and die, how about that? I was taught how to use it in 4 fucking seconds, so get off my back! Sigh. Sorry, you don't care. I'm just venting. A LOT. Sorry.
But yeah. The next chapter is the last one. THE FINAL INSTALLMENT! Is that sad, or what? It's sad for me, I guess. So yeah. But I have a surprise for you all! Be sure to read the author's note in the next chapter before just exiting out. Hopefully, you'll like it. Alright? Alright. I'll post the last chapter ASAP. OverAndOutxx
It wasn’t a question, really. From that day in the hospital, Pen and Bob had become inseparable. They were always together, and Bob had no intention of losing Penelope to anyone or anything again. And she was just as devoted to him, reluctant to leave his side for even a moment, because he became her protector from those bad parts of the world, and she felt immune to them when she had Bob. He was strong for her, and she gave him a new reason to be strong.
It wasn’t easy, but Pen was able to keep herself clean for another six months. With Bob’s help, she avoided all temptation, and she found new vices to keep her sane. Pen discovered a talent for writing poetry, and she even got a few pieces published in books, collections of poems by new authors. Bob was proud of her, and more importantly, she was finally proud of herself.
“Bob,” she said to him one morning over breakfast.
“Hmm?” he looked up. He had been thinking; it seemed to Pen that Bob spent a lot of time thinking lately.
“I was reading one of those self-help books yesterday, and I read something that reminded me of you. Would you like to hear it?”
“Shoot,” he said.
“Well, it said that if something happens to you and you don’t get over it, it can stay with you throughout the rest of your life. It said that telling yourself that you’ve moved on isn’t enough, because when you have to constantly remind yourself that you’re over it, you’re obviously not over it at all. The book said that to be truly done with that part of your life, you have to confront it again, and then you really have to let go, no matter how much it hurts.”
“But why would it hurt to let go of something that constantly plagues your thoughts?” Bob asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Because then, you don’t have an excuse to be upset. Because that means that you have to find ways to be happy again, and that can sometimes be more difficult than just accepting that you’re unhappy. But when you really are happy, it will be the simplest thing in the world to keep with you.”
Bob smiled across the table at her.
It was in this way that, a few days later, Pen and Bob were standing outside a cemetery just outside of Chicago, where they lived.
Pen squeezed his hand. “Are you ready?”
He tried to smile at her. “I think so. I guess we’ll find out.”
Hand in hand, they walked into the cemetery, past all the graves and headstones until they arrived at the one that Bob had revisited many times when he was a teenager, and then given up on when he’d decided to become an adult.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF GEORGE AND ALICE BRYAR
Bob knelt at the headstone, eyes racking over the all-too familiar scene before him. He remembered all of the tears that had watered the soil in this exact spot, what seemed like forever ago. He sniffed slightly, feeling fresh tears welling up in his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his dad’s marble bag. He upended it over the stone slab, watching the marbles crash and roll in all directions, some rolling off the stone and into the dirt, a few remaining on the smooth rock. His tears finally broke, slipping just outside his lids. Penelope knelt beside him, using the tips of her fingers to lift the tears off his face. He sniffed once more and grabbed her small hand in his, resting it on his cheek. He smiled over at her, exhaling slowly.
As the breath left his body, he felt something else rushing out with it: blame. All the blame he felt; blame of himself, of his parents, of everyone who had ever tried to tell him that they understood what he was going through, it all seemed to be exhaled. His shoulders raised, freed of an invisible weight, and he stood, straight and tall.
“How does it feel?” Penelope asked, standing with him.
“Like…nothing. I feel absolutely nothing. The guilt is gone, the blame, the hurt…right now, all I feel is love. And it’s the lightest feeling in the world.”
Penelope took both Bob’s hands in hers, squeezing them and smiling up at him. “I’m glad. I’m really glad,” she nodded.
“So am I,” he kissed the top of her head, making her giggle.
They walked out of the graveyard, hands clasped, connected by intertwining fingers, and perhaps something more.
“Penelope,” Bob said as they got into the car.
“Robert,” she mimicked his tone.
“Do you remember our deal?”
Penelope looked down at her lap then, fumbling with her hands. “I remember…” she murmured.
“Penelope,” he placed a hand beneath her chin, lifting her face so that she was looking at him. “I’m so grateful to you for helping me. Now you need to help yourself.”
Penelope gulped, then nodded. She smiled. “As long as you’re with me, I know I’ll be able to do it.”
“Do you remember where we’re going?” he asked her, getting onto the highway.
“I think I’ll be able to find it…” she said quietly, glancing out the window, nerves beginning to fill her body.
She hoped she could do this.
I don't think you actually understand how ridiculously tired I am right now. I was up at the crack of ass this morning, at the PGA golf torunament in Broken Sound by 7:30, and working fucking concessions by 8:00. You would not believe all the rich, snobby wasps that swarm those fucking golf tournaments. You know why Florida's called the "cemetery where everyone goes to die"? Because it's fucking filled with old people! They're great and all, but not when they're trying to get change out of a hundred after buying $15 worth of shit! Most of which is Bud or Michelobe Ultra-Light. Not to fucking mention, they yell at me because I don't know how to operate the demon-cash-register? Bite me! Eat shit and die, how about that? I was taught how to use it in 4 fucking seconds, so get off my back! Sigh. Sorry, you don't care. I'm just venting. A LOT. Sorry.
But yeah. The next chapter is the last one. THE FINAL INSTALLMENT! Is that sad, or what? It's sad for me, I guess. So yeah. But I have a surprise for you all! Be sure to read the author's note in the next chapter before just exiting out. Hopefully, you'll like it. Alright? Alright. I'll post the last chapter ASAP. OverAndOutxx
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