Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Meeting Him. Chpt.1
Meeting Him. Chpt.1
0 reviewsGerard is sent somewhere he has never wanted to go to before and makes a little friend)
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Chpt.1. Mental
It was all just so dark that day. It was raining and all I could think about was my future. I couldn't stop worrying about what a failure I've become. I was just lying there on my bed. A knife in one hand and sleeping pills in the other. Left or right? Knife or pills? I hated my life. I'll never be successful. Ever. Everyone's going to die eventually. Why not now? I don't have any use anymore on this planet called Earth. My mom hates who I am. Gay. That's what I am. I'm gay and I don't care what others think. My family left me to survive on my own. I've been shattered. Beaten. Broken. Forever I'll be scarred by the pain life gives me. I have no friends. Why should someone live if they have no one who loves them? I swallowed the pills and waited eagerly for them to slowly put me to sleep. I closed my eyes and hoped I'd never wake up. Sadly they didn't work. Again these fucking pills failed on me again. I guess I'll just have to suffer another day of eighth grade. I stared at the knife in my hand. I rolled up my pyjama shirt sleeve and traced over my past scars with the knife. Slowly I cut myself deep and watched the blood drip down my arm. Fresh red blood streamed down my arm. The pain felt so good. I cut myself again but deeper and watched the blood pour down my arm. Cutting is my only relief. This knife is my only friend. I cut the word 'FAILURE' into my arm and smiled. Perfect. Now I feel complete. You may be wondering why I haven't gone to a therapist for my problems. About my therapist...well...he kind of died...by a knife...heh...I hate therapists. They're just assholes who get into your business. I put my knife away and went to sleep with a smile. Blood dripping on to the bed and floor leaving a dark red stain on my carpet along with all the other beautiful blood stains on the carpet. Falling asleep to a stinging sensation and the feeling of blood rolling down your arm was the best thing ever. Tomorrow was Friday. My birthday. I hate my birthday. It's a day full of fake smiles and fake everything. My whole family came to my house. Well...it's not really a HOUSE it's actually a shed with two floors. I steal for a living...steal food, goods, money, everything. When my mom came she had a small box. Gift card. Dad came..another little box. Gift card? Money? Condoms? God if its condoms in going to die laughing. My dad knows that I've got like ten girls pregnant and he gives me condoms NOW?! Wow dad. The rest of my family came and I faked a smile, a laugh, and I faked the one emotion I hate the most...love. I'll never get married. Never have a family. After all today's going to be my death day. Die at fourteen. Perfect just like Ill never be. I'll die painfully, cold, heartless, broken, scarred, beaten, and young. I opened presents and faked a smile like always. Everyone left except my parents. God here goes another sex story.. 'Gerard..sweetie..we are worried about you..you're so quiet..what's wrong? You ran away and you never talk to anyone besides yourself..'
I don't want to talk. I don't need to..theres nothing they need to know.. 'Im dying. I'm tired of life so I'm going to die' that's the last thing I said before the unthinkable happened. My life will never be the same EVER again. My parents stayed at my shed overnight and in the morning I had to pack. I'm going to a mental institute..After a giant argument I gave in...I got in my dads car with a frown and my mom put all my bags in the car. My dad started driving when a song came on. Why'd you change your mind by The Answer was the song. I sang along happily:
'They found a letter in your pocket, alarm bells in your head
A paining of a long knife hidden in the bed
You swore you're suicidal as you were staring at the rope
With the garage door behind you
Offering no hope'
My mom quickly changed the radio station and glared at me a little. I stopped singing and stayed silent for the rest of the car ride. I had my sketch book and notebook. I opened up my note book and started writing:
Dear Whomever is reading this,
My name is Gerard Arthur Way and I hate life. I'm probably dead by how but that doesn't matter. No one loves me. My parents hate me and I never see my little brother..why must I go thorough this pain? Why me? I don't have a purpose. I'd rather die than live lonely. I should have been a better son.. Farewell and Goodnight.
~ Gerard Arthur Way.
I put the note book away and got out of the car once we arrived. I had a plan. After I said my fake goodbyes and when to my room. I had to share it with one other person who I met in a strange way. I walked into the room to see his boy looking about eight years old cutting himself deep.
'Oh...heh...hai..' The boy said nervously.
' hi..' I replied'
' What's your name?' He asked adorably.
'Oh..I'm Gerard Way...and you are?'
' I'm Frank. Frank Iero'
That's when it all began..
It was all just so dark that day. It was raining and all I could think about was my future. I couldn't stop worrying about what a failure I've become. I was just lying there on my bed. A knife in one hand and sleeping pills in the other. Left or right? Knife or pills? I hated my life. I'll never be successful. Ever. Everyone's going to die eventually. Why not now? I don't have any use anymore on this planet called Earth. My mom hates who I am. Gay. That's what I am. I'm gay and I don't care what others think. My family left me to survive on my own. I've been shattered. Beaten. Broken. Forever I'll be scarred by the pain life gives me. I have no friends. Why should someone live if they have no one who loves them? I swallowed the pills and waited eagerly for them to slowly put me to sleep. I closed my eyes and hoped I'd never wake up. Sadly they didn't work. Again these fucking pills failed on me again. I guess I'll just have to suffer another day of eighth grade. I stared at the knife in my hand. I rolled up my pyjama shirt sleeve and traced over my past scars with the knife. Slowly I cut myself deep and watched the blood drip down my arm. Fresh red blood streamed down my arm. The pain felt so good. I cut myself again but deeper and watched the blood pour down my arm. Cutting is my only relief. This knife is my only friend. I cut the word 'FAILURE' into my arm and smiled. Perfect. Now I feel complete. You may be wondering why I haven't gone to a therapist for my problems. About my therapist...well...he kind of died...by a knife...heh...I hate therapists. They're just assholes who get into your business. I put my knife away and went to sleep with a smile. Blood dripping on to the bed and floor leaving a dark red stain on my carpet along with all the other beautiful blood stains on the carpet. Falling asleep to a stinging sensation and the feeling of blood rolling down your arm was the best thing ever. Tomorrow was Friday. My birthday. I hate my birthday. It's a day full of fake smiles and fake everything. My whole family came to my house. Well...it's not really a HOUSE it's actually a shed with two floors. I steal for a living...steal food, goods, money, everything. When my mom came she had a small box. Gift card. Dad came..another little box. Gift card? Money? Condoms? God if its condoms in going to die laughing. My dad knows that I've got like ten girls pregnant and he gives me condoms NOW?! Wow dad. The rest of my family came and I faked a smile, a laugh, and I faked the one emotion I hate the most...love. I'll never get married. Never have a family. After all today's going to be my death day. Die at fourteen. Perfect just like Ill never be. I'll die painfully, cold, heartless, broken, scarred, beaten, and young. I opened presents and faked a smile like always. Everyone left except my parents. God here goes another sex story.. 'Gerard..sweetie..we are worried about you..you're so quiet..what's wrong? You ran away and you never talk to anyone besides yourself..'
I don't want to talk. I don't need to..theres nothing they need to know.. 'Im dying. I'm tired of life so I'm going to die' that's the last thing I said before the unthinkable happened. My life will never be the same EVER again. My parents stayed at my shed overnight and in the morning I had to pack. I'm going to a mental institute..After a giant argument I gave in...I got in my dads car with a frown and my mom put all my bags in the car. My dad started driving when a song came on. Why'd you change your mind by The Answer was the song. I sang along happily:
'They found a letter in your pocket, alarm bells in your head
A paining of a long knife hidden in the bed
You swore you're suicidal as you were staring at the rope
With the garage door behind you
Offering no hope'
My mom quickly changed the radio station and glared at me a little. I stopped singing and stayed silent for the rest of the car ride. I had my sketch book and notebook. I opened up my note book and started writing:
Dear Whomever is reading this,
My name is Gerard Arthur Way and I hate life. I'm probably dead by how but that doesn't matter. No one loves me. My parents hate me and I never see my little brother..why must I go thorough this pain? Why me? I don't have a purpose. I'd rather die than live lonely. I should have been a better son.. Farewell and Goodnight.
~ Gerard Arthur Way.
I put the note book away and got out of the car once we arrived. I had a plan. After I said my fake goodbyes and when to my room. I had to share it with one other person who I met in a strange way. I walked into the room to see his boy looking about eight years old cutting himself deep.
'Oh...heh...hai..' The boy said nervously.
' hi..' I replied'
' What's your name?' He asked adorably.
'Oh..I'm Gerard Way...and you are?'
' I'm Frank. Frank Iero'
That's when it all began..
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