Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
What did I do to suggest I loved you?
Everything.
I left notes in your locker, I listened to all your favorite bands, I even quit drinking because you asked me too.
I came to this party with my girlfriend. I mean, I love her and all, but I don't feel as intensely about her as I do you. But whatever. I'm dancing with her and she's trashed, and as you know, I don't do that shit anymore. I shouldn't even be at this house. But you're here, so I decided to see if I could manage to convince you that you love me too. Because you have to. It's impossible that you don't. I've been there for you for ages. You're mine.
Mine.
You're a bit drunk. I don't understand why you're allowed to drink and I'm not. But whatever. You make the rules. I just follow them.
But anyways, so you're a little tipsy. My girlfriend has collapsed on a couch, blacked out and oblivious. I wander over to you. I wonder if it has hit you yet.
"Hey, KC." You giggle in that way that makes me melt. "What's the his-aps?" A fit of laughter follows.
I just smile. Oh yeah. It's hit you. You don't act like this normally and I do believe you're drinking Pepsi.
We go upstairs to a bedroom. You put you cup down, giggling about something I am not paying attention to.
You lie back on the bed, groping at me. I lick my lips. I didn't plan it quite this way, but what the hell, may as well.
So, we do it. You're not my first, probably not my last, but you’re the only one that really matters. You seem to enjoy yourself, which surprises me because I didn't think I was that good in bed. Then again, you are doped and it's your first time and all.
When it's over, you're nodding off in the bed. I leave you because I feel dirty. How could I do this to you? In my selfishness, I took advantage if you. How could I do this? I exit through the window, half-hoping that I break my neck on the jump down.
I go home and get very drunk and play with a gun. I don't hurt myself. I just gaze at how pretty it looks against my head.
*
This morning you call me crying. You say you can't remember what happened at the party. You woke up in someone's bed and there was semen on you. You think someone put a date rape drug in your drink. Did I see anyone go upstairs with you?
"No, honey, I'm sorry."
Liar. Liar liar liar.
You say you're going to kill yourself. I tell you not to, that the bastard who hurt you deserves to die, not you. You keep crying. You say you wish I were there.
And now I'm at your house, pretending. I'm an actor--well, I should be an actor. I let you cry on my shoulder and, god, I wish I could just take it back.
*
Three months have passed since that party. You're crying again because the doctor told you you're pregnant.
I've ruined your life.
*
The baby is now born. His name is Kaleb. You named him after me because I helped you through this horrible place in your life.
*
Today, you are diagnosed with AIDS. I blame myself, though I'm not HIV positive and I couldn't have given it to you. You say you've been positive since you were born, but it just now developed into AIDS.
After talking to you, I go to the clinic and get tested.
I'm positive.
*
I sit beside your hospital bed, holding little Gerard. You smile, but it seems like something is wrong. You look from me to the toddler and back. I can see the realization in your eyes.
"It was you."
I'm paralyzed. My throat constricts.
"You're the one who…raped me."
I've known it for a long time but now hearing it from your mouth, my eyes water. I put Kaleb on the floor. He picks up a plastic block and puts it in his mouth. I can see myself in his features. I always could.
"How could you?" You start to cry.
"I was stupid."
"And that excuses what you did to me?"
"I made a mistake."
"That's a pretty fucking big mistake!"
I cringe because you never swear. You're livid right now.
"Is it because I didn't want to sleep with you?"
"No..."
"Because you felt like you could control me?"
"No."
"Damn it, Kaleb Collins, tell me!"
I tell you, repressing sobs. I tell you how I love you, how I've always loved you, how I can't live without you; all the things I couldn't say before.
You sit up, bend over the bed to pick up your baby, our baby. You say you need to think about things, please go.
*
You died last week. In your will--which I didn't know you had written--you left Kaleb with me. I wonder if it was before or after I confessed to you.
Little Kay looks up at me with his beautiful eyes--your beautiful eyes--and says to me, "Daddy I wuv you."
That's right--he called me Daddy. I don't know where he learned it.
The toddler asks me in his limited speech if you went to Heaven. Misty-eyed, I tell him that you're eating dinner with Jesus. This makes him happy. He puts a flower on your grave, asks you to share your toys with Mister Jesus.
He holds my hand and we walk back to the car.
Once we get home, I fix him a snack and he takes a nap on the couch in my apartment. I sit on my bed, staring into the mirror.
I want to be with you. I want to eat dinner with you and Jesus. I want you with me--life has no meaning without you.
I pick up the gun sitting on my dresser and load it. Better make it quick before--
"Daddy I can have a wittle bit juice?"
I quickly hide the weapon.
The little boy blinks at me innocently, sticking his lip out a bit. He has your pout.
How can I leave him? He's a part of you, a part of me. He's already lost you. Who am I to leave him an orphan?
I pick him up. "Sure, buddy, I'll get you some juice."
I love you. I always will. Maybe our love wasn’t the same, but it doesn’t matter. This kid is all I’ve got left of you. No way I’m leaving him behind. He’s still mine.
Just like you.
Everything.
I left notes in your locker, I listened to all your favorite bands, I even quit drinking because you asked me too.
I came to this party with my girlfriend. I mean, I love her and all, but I don't feel as intensely about her as I do you. But whatever. I'm dancing with her and she's trashed, and as you know, I don't do that shit anymore. I shouldn't even be at this house. But you're here, so I decided to see if I could manage to convince you that you love me too. Because you have to. It's impossible that you don't. I've been there for you for ages. You're mine.
Mine.
You're a bit drunk. I don't understand why you're allowed to drink and I'm not. But whatever. You make the rules. I just follow them.
But anyways, so you're a little tipsy. My girlfriend has collapsed on a couch, blacked out and oblivious. I wander over to you. I wonder if it has hit you yet.
"Hey, KC." You giggle in that way that makes me melt. "What's the his-aps?" A fit of laughter follows.
I just smile. Oh yeah. It's hit you. You don't act like this normally and I do believe you're drinking Pepsi.
We go upstairs to a bedroom. You put you cup down, giggling about something I am not paying attention to.
You lie back on the bed, groping at me. I lick my lips. I didn't plan it quite this way, but what the hell, may as well.
So, we do it. You're not my first, probably not my last, but you’re the only one that really matters. You seem to enjoy yourself, which surprises me because I didn't think I was that good in bed. Then again, you are doped and it's your first time and all.
When it's over, you're nodding off in the bed. I leave you because I feel dirty. How could I do this to you? In my selfishness, I took advantage if you. How could I do this? I exit through the window, half-hoping that I break my neck on the jump down.
I go home and get very drunk and play with a gun. I don't hurt myself. I just gaze at how pretty it looks against my head.
*
This morning you call me crying. You say you can't remember what happened at the party. You woke up in someone's bed and there was semen on you. You think someone put a date rape drug in your drink. Did I see anyone go upstairs with you?
"No, honey, I'm sorry."
Liar. Liar liar liar.
You say you're going to kill yourself. I tell you not to, that the bastard who hurt you deserves to die, not you. You keep crying. You say you wish I were there.
And now I'm at your house, pretending. I'm an actor--well, I should be an actor. I let you cry on my shoulder and, god, I wish I could just take it back.
*
Three months have passed since that party. You're crying again because the doctor told you you're pregnant.
I've ruined your life.
*
The baby is now born. His name is Kaleb. You named him after me because I helped you through this horrible place in your life.
*
Today, you are diagnosed with AIDS. I blame myself, though I'm not HIV positive and I couldn't have given it to you. You say you've been positive since you were born, but it just now developed into AIDS.
After talking to you, I go to the clinic and get tested.
I'm positive.
*
I sit beside your hospital bed, holding little Gerard. You smile, but it seems like something is wrong. You look from me to the toddler and back. I can see the realization in your eyes.
"It was you."
I'm paralyzed. My throat constricts.
"You're the one who…raped me."
I've known it for a long time but now hearing it from your mouth, my eyes water. I put Kaleb on the floor. He picks up a plastic block and puts it in his mouth. I can see myself in his features. I always could.
"How could you?" You start to cry.
"I was stupid."
"And that excuses what you did to me?"
"I made a mistake."
"That's a pretty fucking big mistake!"
I cringe because you never swear. You're livid right now.
"Is it because I didn't want to sleep with you?"
"No..."
"Because you felt like you could control me?"
"No."
"Damn it, Kaleb Collins, tell me!"
I tell you, repressing sobs. I tell you how I love you, how I've always loved you, how I can't live without you; all the things I couldn't say before.
You sit up, bend over the bed to pick up your baby, our baby. You say you need to think about things, please go.
*
You died last week. In your will--which I didn't know you had written--you left Kaleb with me. I wonder if it was before or after I confessed to you.
Little Kay looks up at me with his beautiful eyes--your beautiful eyes--and says to me, "Daddy I wuv you."
That's right--he called me Daddy. I don't know where he learned it.
The toddler asks me in his limited speech if you went to Heaven. Misty-eyed, I tell him that you're eating dinner with Jesus. This makes him happy. He puts a flower on your grave, asks you to share your toys with Mister Jesus.
He holds my hand and we walk back to the car.
Once we get home, I fix him a snack and he takes a nap on the couch in my apartment. I sit on my bed, staring into the mirror.
I want to be with you. I want to eat dinner with you and Jesus. I want you with me--life has no meaning without you.
I pick up the gun sitting on my dresser and load it. Better make it quick before--
"Daddy I can have a wittle bit juice?"
I quickly hide the weapon.
The little boy blinks at me innocently, sticking his lip out a bit. He has your pout.
How can I leave him? He's a part of you, a part of me. He's already lost you. Who am I to leave him an orphan?
I pick him up. "Sure, buddy, I'll get you some juice."
I love you. I always will. Maybe our love wasn’t the same, but it doesn’t matter. This kid is all I’ve got left of you. No way I’m leaving him behind. He’s still mine.
Just like you.
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