FicWad

I have never been one to follow treads, or to conform, but in a classic Ellie fashionably late way I am here to say good bye to my favourite band.

This past weekend has been a, for lack of a better word, rocky one. I have never felt so many different things at once, so strongly before. My dear friend, Sarah and I were standing in the middle of the biggest music shop in the city when another friend of hers texted her simply saying "I hate to be the one to break the news to you, but My Chem has broken up".

My heart thumped erratically in my chest, I clutched my slightly cold Starbucks flat white tighter in my clammy hands.

"It has gotta be a rumour" I tell Sarah. My mouth is dry. She nods her head frantically, like me, attempting to deny the coming fate. She quickly suggests we get out of there, I propose we head towards the library which I know has free Wi-Fi so we can look it up. She agrees and we been to traipse up the busy strip of walkway through the Queen Street Mall. Sarah taps away at her battered, MCR background adorned iPhone. I trudge alone beside her attempting to keep composure.

Sarah’s eyes widen, huge behind her Mikey Way look-a-like glasses. She does not speak, simply thrust the phone at me and walks off. I take the phone with shaking hands, I have stopped in the middle of the walkway, people angrily pushing past me. I don't even attempt to move, my feet firmly planted.

My eyes skim over the text six, maybe seven times before it sinks in. For a moment I can't breathe. I blink, blindly searching for my friend who appears to be lost in the sea of bustling business men and nandy-well teenagers. When I find her, we do not speak. We both know it is true. I suddenly feel as though I am choking on the polluted air of overly processed food court dinners, exhaust fumes and the nauseating concoction of thousands of different colognes.

Throat thick, fat tears swell beneath my knock off John Lennon sunglasses.

Fast forward half an hour.

Sarah and I, after making the hasty decision to abandon the city, are slouched at the very back of the graffiti stained train, headed for the "dodgy" part of town where Sarah lives. Sarah’s best friend just called to make sure she was okay, after a tear choked phone call she offers me her phones, telling me I can do whatever I want. I only nod in reply.

With trembling fingers I type in, fuck up and try again, the web address for Ficwad. What I find astounds me. For all the shit that we give each other on this site, the bitchiness, going to other sites, I never been so proud to be part of Ficwad. The messages and notes up is why I still have faith. I have never seen so many people so sad, but still manage to pull together and be there for each other. Dmitri Ways post made a small bubble of laughter seep from my frowning lips. He tells anyone who wants to, to give him a ring, putting his personal phone number up. I read through the numerous good buys and thank you’s.

At that moment, all I felt was pride.

I was proud to be a soldier of the MCRmy. I felt safe and loved and warm.

The rest of my day is spent screaming lyrics, running about the supermarket buying ridiculous things like dip and MCR related chocolates (Mikey Ways, Aeros, Moros etc) and baking a My Chemical Romance cake, complete with black food dye and red icing.

Skip forward a day.

I am tugging my MCR shirt over my head before I button up my school blouse over the top. I pin my I Am Not Okay face badge to my tie. I strap my MCR band around my forearm and safety pin in to my school contraband black thumb holed jacket.

As I walk to school, Helena blasting as loud as it will go in my ears, I think. I am a girl whose self-confidence matches her mental state, which can be described as questionable at best. I am a struggling artist, who is barely keeping her head above water at school. I know I should be thinking about the Maths A exam I have the next day and I know that I should be contemplating what I should make for dinner for my little brother tonight.

When I arrive at school, I am met by Sarah. We stare at each for a moment she is clad in her Sorrows hoodie and MCR wrist band. Soon after her arrival two of my other friends Skye and Hayley, make their way to where we are seated. Hayley, like me, has her MCR band strapped to her upper arm. Skye wears an beaten expression, MCR scrawled in the inside of her wrist in black art marker.

We all cry a little bit more, discuss theories and rumours. The things we love about them and things we are going to miss. Regrets and memories.

Class starts and we continue to sob during Form class. Hayley even slagging off the teacher when she is asked to take the class roll to front office.

When first period is let out, I head to my usual break spot. The five of us sit in the back art room, making use of the ancient CD that requires one of the eighth grade clay pieces to rest atop it to work.

We blast out Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge and talk some more about it. I am wondering what is going to happen with MCR5.

Halfway through the next lesson Skye turns to me, eyes filled with tears. I mouth a frantic "What!?" at her. She send it to me in an email. I shakily open a new tab and open to the email. It is Gerard's letter.

I completely zone out, ignoring the teachers rambling and read the letter. I smiled, laughed, choked on sobs and finally felt closure. Skye looks at me, I look back. I hold her hand as we both continue to cry. But I am crying tears of admiration and compassion. I am almost happy.

I remember back to something Hayley had said earlier. Forgive my memory, this is just a rough outline.

"They have given us so much. They have brought out things inside us that we were too scared to show. Made us do things we would have never have done" I realize she is completely right. I would never had taken up the opportunity to do an art course part time, Sarah would have never learnt the bass, Hayley never the guitar. I would have never been able to tell people that I read comics with pride. I would have never found my love for Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I owe them so much, more that I can imagine.

I then next lesson I attempt to explain how I feel to a girl in my computer class. But it is an impossible task for someone who is not a fan to understand. They are so much more than a band, they do more than write music and play live. They save lives and keep the living, living.

They are unlike any other band.

When I am walking home, trudging up the killer hill on the way to retrieve my little brother, Jake, from school. The autumn breeze laps at my wind burnt cheeks, the sun is on its lazy way to setting and I am happy. I am not okay. But I am standing tall. I have accepted The End. And have managed to carry on.

So thank you My Chemical Romance. Thank you everything that you have done for me. I can never thank you enough. You have helped me through the worst times in my life and serenaded me through the best. I will still wear you merch with pride, gaze at my poster adorned walls and babble nonstop about you.

When I asked Jake what we would say to you if I ever got the chance to me you, he said this.
"Thank you for everything you have done, not just for me but for everyone. You guys are actual superheros because you actually save people’s lives. I respect you for decision for what you have decided to make, and I thank you for you have not only done in my life but for others too."

This has been hard on all of us, but I know, I KNOW, that we can make it through. BECAUSE KILLJOYS NEVER DIE.

And I know that in a world so full of wrongs, it can be hard for things to be right, but I think that it will be alright. We will be okay.

All I can say is thank you and good luck. I will keep the faith and do it loud.

So Long And Goodnight, My Chemical Romance, Gerard, Mikey, Bob, Frank and Ray.

Always Leaves Love Ellen Grace Petersen.

"Oh how wrong we were to think that immortality meant never dying"

My Chemical Romance 2001-2013

Gone, but not dead. Because My Chemical Romance is an idea, and you cannot kill an idea.