Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Drop The Dagger And Lather The Blood On Your Hands, Romeo
When they got back to their appartment, yes the two of them shared, how convinient right? Frank went straight to his room and got out his journal.
Why do you do this to me? Why do you make me love you so much it hurts me. Why do you have to make my life so painful?
Everything you do. Every little think I notice about you. Like, for instance, the way you your cigarette hangs in your mouth, even even when you're talking, the way your tongue pokes out when you're concentrating, the way you smile that beautiful, sexy half smile of yours, just the way you walk. Eveything about you makes me fall deeper in love with you.
Why did you have to do this to me?
Why? Answer me.
Why did you have to cast this unbreakable spell on me.
Why does loving you have to be so hard.
Loving you could be so easy. Loving you could be so great. If only you loved me back. Why don't you? Am I not good enough?
Yes, that's it. I'm not good enough. I've never been good enough. My whole life, I've been nothing. Just like my mother once said "Frank, you're never gonna make it" when I left college.
Why is it that I have to fall in love with such a great person.
One who could never love some fucking failure like me.
Why, is all I ask.
Answer me that, huh?
Why did you have to do this to me?
Frank tucked his journal back into his pillow case and rolled over so that he was lying on his side, staring out of the window. It was raining. It looked miserable out there. Just how he felt.
Funny that, the weather can reflect your mood.
Frank lay there, watching the rain drops crashing down on the Earth bellow. How he would give to be one of those rain drops. To be able to fall to the floor and splatter into millions of tiny pieces.
He lay there, watching the city, until he did the unthinkable.
He reached into his bedside table and pulled out a razor.
He snapped the blade out of the plastic and looked at it for a second. Did he really want to do this? Yes. The answer was clear. Yes, of course he wanted to do this. He wanted the pain to be both mental and physical. He wanted to show that person what they had done to him. He wanted to cause himself maybe enough physical pain to drown out the mental pain.
He placed the now broken razor back into his draw so that Gerard didn't think it was wierd that there was a broken razor in Frank's bin. Yes, Gerard took out the trash.
Frank then thought about how deep he actually wanted to go, or how much damage he wanted to cause. Well, he didn't want to go too deep. He didn't want to kill himself, just take the pain away. And he didn't want to do that much damage. He didn't want to be hospitalilzed.
He placed the blade gently down onto his left wrist, then graduately putting more pressure on it. Once he saw blood he began to move the blade accross his arm.
He gasped at the first bit of pain, but then came numbness.
Yes, he liked this feel. He felt nothing. He didn't feel the pain that that someone had caused him. He didn't even feel the pain he was causing himself.
Frank could feel himself start to get lightheaded so he put the blade back into his drawer and just watched the crimson liquid flow out of his arm.
He wrapped his wounds up in a t-shirt he had lying down the side of the bed and tied it up tight, so the pressure would stop the bleeding.
He lay back down and pulled his douvet up to his neck, hiding his arm underneath it.
Soon after, all went black.
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Why do you do this to me? Why do you make me love you so much it hurts me. Why do you have to make my life so painful?
Everything you do. Every little think I notice about you. Like, for instance, the way you your cigarette hangs in your mouth, even even when you're talking, the way your tongue pokes out when you're concentrating, the way you smile that beautiful, sexy half smile of yours, just the way you walk. Eveything about you makes me fall deeper in love with you.
Why did you have to do this to me?
Why? Answer me.
Why did you have to cast this unbreakable spell on me.
Why does loving you have to be so hard.
Loving you could be so easy. Loving you could be so great. If only you loved me back. Why don't you? Am I not good enough?
Yes, that's it. I'm not good enough. I've never been good enough. My whole life, I've been nothing. Just like my mother once said "Frank, you're never gonna make it" when I left college.
Why is it that I have to fall in love with such a great person.
One who could never love some fucking failure like me.
Why, is all I ask.
Answer me that, huh?
Why did you have to do this to me?
Frank tucked his journal back into his pillow case and rolled over so that he was lying on his side, staring out of the window. It was raining. It looked miserable out there. Just how he felt.
Funny that, the weather can reflect your mood.
Frank lay there, watching the rain drops crashing down on the Earth bellow. How he would give to be one of those rain drops. To be able to fall to the floor and splatter into millions of tiny pieces.
He lay there, watching the city, until he did the unthinkable.
He reached into his bedside table and pulled out a razor.
He snapped the blade out of the plastic and looked at it for a second. Did he really want to do this? Yes. The answer was clear. Yes, of course he wanted to do this. He wanted the pain to be both mental and physical. He wanted to show that person what they had done to him. He wanted to cause himself maybe enough physical pain to drown out the mental pain.
He placed the now broken razor back into his draw so that Gerard didn't think it was wierd that there was a broken razor in Frank's bin. Yes, Gerard took out the trash.
Frank then thought about how deep he actually wanted to go, or how much damage he wanted to cause. Well, he didn't want to go too deep. He didn't want to kill himself, just take the pain away. And he didn't want to do that much damage. He didn't want to be hospitalilzed.
He placed the blade gently down onto his left wrist, then graduately putting more pressure on it. Once he saw blood he began to move the blade accross his arm.
He gasped at the first bit of pain, but then came numbness.
Yes, he liked this feel. He felt nothing. He didn't feel the pain that that someone had caused him. He didn't even feel the pain he was causing himself.
Frank could feel himself start to get lightheaded so he put the blade back into his drawer and just watched the crimson liquid flow out of his arm.
He wrapped his wounds up in a t-shirt he had lying down the side of the bed and tied it up tight, so the pressure would stop the bleeding.
He lay back down and pulled his douvet up to his neck, hiding his arm underneath it.
Soon after, all went black.
----------------------------
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