Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Asylum
Gerard's P.O.V
Frank left the room, I was alone now, never truly alone though, the cameras are always watching. It's been a long time since I'd last had a normal conversation with anyone. Did it even count as a conversation? I mean he's mute. I start to get depressed by the reality that I had no longer had any friends left. I had Mikey; he'd always be there for me, but it’s different with him, he's my brother so I feel more like a responsibility rather than a friend. Despite him being the younger brother, he’s always been the one to look after me. I feel slightly guilty for depending on him so much, but I can’t help it. My mood picks up when I remembered that I’m allowed visiting hours now, since ‘It would no longer affect my progress'. I don’t see how it could have, but these doctors seem to know my own mind better than I do. Nonetheless I’m grateful for the time I can have with him, but it still isn't as much as I'd like.
I look down at my paper to see that I've snapped the lead of my pencil, I frown at it and then the thought of getting up to sharpen it makes me frown even more. The thought of drawing something for Frank goes through my mind; even if I did I doubt I’d have the guts to give it to him. I reason with myself that if he doesn't know about it then it won't matter if I do or not. I don't want him thinking that I’m crazy stalker. Well, he must already think that I'm crazy, why else would I be here?
I walk down the familiar corridor from the art room, occasionally seeing nurses and doctors rushing from room to room. All of the corridors are identical of course, equally as flawless. As I approach my room I hear the faint strumming of a guitar. I pause in front of the closed door and remember the guitar case that Frank brought with him when he arrived. Placing my ear to the door I manage to make out a faint whisper. “I’m not okay”. For some reason this hits me hard and not in a good way. The world doesn't revolve around me, other people have problems too. Suddenly a wave of anger sweeps over me, not because of Frank or anyone else, but because of me. Because I have no control over myself or my problems. Fuck. I am helpless. I barely manage to restrain myself from smashing something or punching a wall, they’d have me sedated in under a minute. And that would result in not seeing Mikey. I do it for Mikey. He’s the only reason I continue to fight, to keep on living.
Suddenly everything becomes distorted, my vision, my hearing, my thoughts. Focusing all of my energy on not exploding with rage I black out and collapse to the floor.
Frank left the room, I was alone now, never truly alone though, the cameras are always watching. It's been a long time since I'd last had a normal conversation with anyone. Did it even count as a conversation? I mean he's mute. I start to get depressed by the reality that I had no longer had any friends left. I had Mikey; he'd always be there for me, but it’s different with him, he's my brother so I feel more like a responsibility rather than a friend. Despite him being the younger brother, he’s always been the one to look after me. I feel slightly guilty for depending on him so much, but I can’t help it. My mood picks up when I remembered that I’m allowed visiting hours now, since ‘It would no longer affect my progress'. I don’t see how it could have, but these doctors seem to know my own mind better than I do. Nonetheless I’m grateful for the time I can have with him, but it still isn't as much as I'd like.
I look down at my paper to see that I've snapped the lead of my pencil, I frown at it and then the thought of getting up to sharpen it makes me frown even more. The thought of drawing something for Frank goes through my mind; even if I did I doubt I’d have the guts to give it to him. I reason with myself that if he doesn't know about it then it won't matter if I do or not. I don't want him thinking that I’m crazy stalker. Well, he must already think that I'm crazy, why else would I be here?
I walk down the familiar corridor from the art room, occasionally seeing nurses and doctors rushing from room to room. All of the corridors are identical of course, equally as flawless. As I approach my room I hear the faint strumming of a guitar. I pause in front of the closed door and remember the guitar case that Frank brought with him when he arrived. Placing my ear to the door I manage to make out a faint whisper. “I’m not okay”. For some reason this hits me hard and not in a good way. The world doesn't revolve around me, other people have problems too. Suddenly a wave of anger sweeps over me, not because of Frank or anyone else, but because of me. Because I have no control over myself or my problems. Fuck. I am helpless. I barely manage to restrain myself from smashing something or punching a wall, they’d have me sedated in under a minute. And that would result in not seeing Mikey. I do it for Mikey. He’s the only reason I continue to fight, to keep on living.
Suddenly everything becomes distorted, my vision, my hearing, my thoughts. Focusing all of my energy on not exploding with rage I black out and collapse to the floor.
Sign up to rate and review this story