Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Dear Agony


by IsisBane 4 reviews

Subconscious mentalities...

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2011-05-18 - Updated: 2011-05-20 - 935 words - Complete

Ehh... I have nothing to say except for the fact that I am plotting my father's death :P

What is it about appearances that sets people off? I'll never understand why someone has to be 'easy on the eyes' or else they're not worth the time. It seems that if you're not flawless, you're just another creature that no one else cares about.

I suppose I'm just ranting on about things, but it isn't like it's not on my mind anyway. But I'd rather think about something else. Maybe the way it feels to be with that special person, or how the night sky can make you dizzy with excitement if the moon is just right. Maybe I'll dream about things like that tonight.

I've always thought dreams were queer little visions that you're forced to sit through. It's so hard to wake up from a nightmare, let alone a dream that's so right yet so bizarre that you don't know if you want to stay engulfed in it or not. I have nightmares, mostly. I can remember watching myself stab someone as they cried out in agony, while I twisted the knife around to cause more pain. It was usually someone I disliked anyway. But the idea was still chilling.

I sometimes wonder if I would be capable of killing a human being. I have to say that there have been situations where I have been completely splenetic, and have thought about getting revenge. But a lot of people do that. It's natural. It doesn't necessarily mean that they'll act out on it. Then again, it isn't as if I don't overreact about almost everything in life.

Before I completely stray off of my original topic (what was it, anyway?), maybe I'll go into daydreams instead. Those are my favorite, considering I do it so much. You can control it so much better, although I've had dreams I could control almost as well. But with a daydream, you can decide exactly what you want to happen, how it ends, or if it even ends at all.

That’s the problem with dreaming. You can never really control it. But once in a while, you’ll dream a memory. It usually doesn’t change, which makes it so much easier to not want to wake up. Memories can be more painful than the worst nightmare, though. You can’t control which memory you dream, either.

I’ve woken up in tears just because of some of the best memories. Things tend to change and fade with time. It can be better just to leave your mind in the present and not try to dig up the past. I think I would rather have another nightmare than to dream about seeing my family together at my grandparent’s house, happy and enjoying themselves, and knowing it will never be the same again.

Maybe it’s giving up childhood that can make remembering so hard. Life is usually at its best when you’re younger. Of course, it’s not always like that for everyone. But for most it is. Your parents love the fact that you’re not old enough to have the attitude of a teenager, so they’re willing to go a little farther to spend time with you. And you love the fact that your parents are there for you. Thus, making the perfect little family. Well, most of the time. But all I had ever known was the smile on my mom’s face when I came inside with flowers for her, which at the time I didn’t realize were just weeds. Or how my dad would stand behind me while I sat on the piano bench as he helped me learn something new.

I didn’t understand what separation was until I was only a few years older. The life I had leading up to the day my dad left me for what felt like an eternity was all I had. I couldn’t fathom not having my family as a whole. And I would give anything to forget the heartbroken cry of anguish that came from my mouth as I sobbed into my mother’s shoulder after watching my daddy walk out the door. He didn’t want to, and I knew that. If I had only stayed asleep a few minutes longer, I never would have known. Not until later, of course. But even in my juvenile mind, I would have understood it was too late for him to come back.

Now I understand it all. I wish I didn’t. It’s simple, and I should be glad that it is. But I’m not.

I don’t like what my mom’s doing, or how my dad has no clue. I hate how I act like its all innocent when he comes home, as if nothing has changed. I hate how I have to take care of myself in order to keep on living a semi-normal life. And I hate that I lie and say its all fine. Because it’s not, and it never will be. But oddly, I’m alright with that. I’m not sure if I could handle the way things used to be again. And even though that bothers me, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

That's all I've got for now. I'm absolutely exhausted from the dress rehearsal for the dinner theater I'm preforming in, and my sister's picking me up in a few hours. So I definitely need some sleep. I'll try to update again soon, though :)
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