Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Division Bell
We were free, for a while.
I still don't know what happened to Gerard. It was like he became a different person overnight. He stopped smiling altogether, something I couldn't stand to see. He threw every ounce of his energy into his performance, and was consequently wiped out afterwards. I hated seeing him like that, I really did. But some evil part of me said he deserved it, that it was his payback for what happened from the beginning of our career. I hated myself for thinking that.
We began to travel back down that same road of depression and angst. It seemed like a never-ending cycle: happiness, depression, anger, and resolution.
Encumbered forever by desire and ambition,
There's a hunger still unsatisfied.
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon,
Though down this road we've been so many times.
Last night, I woke up in the middle of the night. All of us, minus Gerard, were sleeping on the floor outside Frank's room, hoping he would be okay. He had refused to explain to anyone what had been going on. We all suspected he had been on drugs, but we also believed we would have caught it before this. He wouldn't even talk to me, so Frank went in to try and get the story. He didn't want to tell any of us once he found out; all he did was listen to his iPod on full blast and smoke one cigarette after another. I don't think he ever went to sleep.
I woke up in time to see him going into his room. I heard him quietly talking to someone, but there was no response. He sounded like he was pleading, on the verge of tears, but the person would give him no answer. I began to wonder if he was going crazy.
I haven't admitted it before now, but I was really hurt by that. I, of all people, wanted to know why my brother had cut himself, why he had cut Frank, why he had become so reserved and quiet, and Frank wouldn't even tell me.
That was the worst of all.
I still don't know what happened to Gerard. It was like he became a different person overnight. He stopped smiling altogether, something I couldn't stand to see. He threw every ounce of his energy into his performance, and was consequently wiped out afterwards. I hated seeing him like that, I really did. But some evil part of me said he deserved it, that it was his payback for what happened from the beginning of our career. I hated myself for thinking that.
We began to travel back down that same road of depression and angst. It seemed like a never-ending cycle: happiness, depression, anger, and resolution.
Encumbered forever by desire and ambition,
There's a hunger still unsatisfied.
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon,
Though down this road we've been so many times.
Last night, I woke up in the middle of the night. All of us, minus Gerard, were sleeping on the floor outside Frank's room, hoping he would be okay. He had refused to explain to anyone what had been going on. We all suspected he had been on drugs, but we also believed we would have caught it before this. He wouldn't even talk to me, so Frank went in to try and get the story. He didn't want to tell any of us once he found out; all he did was listen to his iPod on full blast and smoke one cigarette after another. I don't think he ever went to sleep.
I woke up in time to see him going into his room. I heard him quietly talking to someone, but there was no response. He sounded like he was pleading, on the verge of tears, but the person would give him no answer. I began to wonder if he was going crazy.
I haven't admitted it before now, but I was really hurt by that. I, of all people, wanted to know why my brother had cut himself, why he had cut Frank, why he had become so reserved and quiet, and Frank wouldn't even tell me.
That was the worst of all.
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