Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Tried To See You Forgetting About Me.
Pete's POV-
It's already been a week. I call her everyday, nothing. I can't live like this. The boys come over, and clean me up, and feed me, and make me sleep, but I'm as miserable as miserable comes.
Shaant has been trying to talk to her, but it's just no use. She won't come out of her room, except to eat, and shower.
Shaant keeps me posted. He says she won't talk to anyone. Brendon, William, Patrick, Joe, and Andy have all tried their luck, but they get nothing.
Everyone knows that Ashlee is a conniving bitch, all except Rachel.
Today's no different. Wake up in bed, stay in bed, fall asleep in bed. That's my life plan. Sometimes someone or another will get me out of bed, but most times, It's just me, myself, and I.
I'm way beyond the point of broken, I'm in the land of no-repair. I'm way past words that people use so loosely, like depressed, upset, heart broken. I'd like to think that there in fact is not a word used to describe the pain I'm going through.
That's because it's not a word. Nothing's in a word. It's a feeling. There is no word to describe this pain because whomever else in this world has ever gone through it had no time, no mind, no sanity, no heart, to make one up that could ever pull all of the pain into one word.
This pain doesn't even deserve a word.
It's a worthless piece of shit. It's an asshole. It's kicking me, and I'm already down. And I'm sure when I die from it, as it tortures me, every single waking moment, every time I blink, every moment I'm wasting, regrettably breathing, instead of dying, I'm sure as its watching me die, it's not even planning to throw me a god damn funeral.
This pain, this so called "loneliness" doesn't even deserve an old address, let alone a new one.
Everything I've ever written down about heartbreaks, and about pain, makes me realize that I was no expert when I was writing.
If I had the strength to pick up a pen and paper, I'd create masterpieces for anyone whose ever thought they had a broken heart, because I'm sure the ones who have felt the pain I'm feeling now, don't live to tell about it.
And I'm sure these masterpieces won't leave Patrick's, or anyone's lips for a while, because let alone not living to tell about it, I'm sure as hell ain't going to live to write about it.
If I don't have the strength to talk, then I don't have the strength to write, and with that, I don't have the strength to eat, to stand, to laugh, to cry, to go the bathroom, to feed Hem, I shouldn't have the strength to breath, but the pain likes to torture me and take away everything BUT the one thing I want it to take away.
Sometimes I wish I could go to sleep, and just...not have to wake up.
Waking up has become a disappointment to me.
My life's a disappointment. I've disappointed everyone whose ever been anyone to me. I've disappointed my band mates, my friends, my fans, my family, Hemingway, and Rachel .
Like I've thought, time and time again,
Waking up has become a disappointment to me.
Just some depression related things for you to munch on while I write more chapters. I know I'm no pete wentz, but I try to fondle (hehe) and experiment with words. I tired to try on Pete's shoes in sticky situations. Tell me what you thought. On second thought, reviews piss me the fuck off, don't. (Hint hint. =D)
It's already been a week. I call her everyday, nothing. I can't live like this. The boys come over, and clean me up, and feed me, and make me sleep, but I'm as miserable as miserable comes.
Shaant has been trying to talk to her, but it's just no use. She won't come out of her room, except to eat, and shower.
Shaant keeps me posted. He says she won't talk to anyone. Brendon, William, Patrick, Joe, and Andy have all tried their luck, but they get nothing.
Everyone knows that Ashlee is a conniving bitch, all except Rachel.
Today's no different. Wake up in bed, stay in bed, fall asleep in bed. That's my life plan. Sometimes someone or another will get me out of bed, but most times, It's just me, myself, and I.
I'm way beyond the point of broken, I'm in the land of no-repair. I'm way past words that people use so loosely, like depressed, upset, heart broken. I'd like to think that there in fact is not a word used to describe the pain I'm going through.
That's because it's not a word. Nothing's in a word. It's a feeling. There is no word to describe this pain because whomever else in this world has ever gone through it had no time, no mind, no sanity, no heart, to make one up that could ever pull all of the pain into one word.
This pain doesn't even deserve a word.
It's a worthless piece of shit. It's an asshole. It's kicking me, and I'm already down. And I'm sure when I die from it, as it tortures me, every single waking moment, every time I blink, every moment I'm wasting, regrettably breathing, instead of dying, I'm sure as its watching me die, it's not even planning to throw me a god damn funeral.
This pain, this so called "loneliness" doesn't even deserve an old address, let alone a new one.
Everything I've ever written down about heartbreaks, and about pain, makes me realize that I was no expert when I was writing.
If I had the strength to pick up a pen and paper, I'd create masterpieces for anyone whose ever thought they had a broken heart, because I'm sure the ones who have felt the pain I'm feeling now, don't live to tell about it.
And I'm sure these masterpieces won't leave Patrick's, or anyone's lips for a while, because let alone not living to tell about it, I'm sure as hell ain't going to live to write about it.
If I don't have the strength to talk, then I don't have the strength to write, and with that, I don't have the strength to eat, to stand, to laugh, to cry, to go the bathroom, to feed Hem, I shouldn't have the strength to breath, but the pain likes to torture me and take away everything BUT the one thing I want it to take away.
Sometimes I wish I could go to sleep, and just...not have to wake up.
Waking up has become a disappointment to me.
My life's a disappointment. I've disappointed everyone whose ever been anyone to me. I've disappointed my band mates, my friends, my fans, my family, Hemingway, and Rachel .
Like I've thought, time and time again,
Waking up has become a disappointment to me.
Just some depression related things for you to munch on while I write more chapters. I know I'm no pete wentz, but I try to fondle (hehe) and experiment with words. I tired to try on Pete's shoes in sticky situations. Tell me what you thought. On second thought, reviews piss me the fuck off, don't. (Hint hint. =D)
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