Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Mad By Association
Number 1 : Where there's a will, there isn't a Way !
'Have you ever felt like you didn't belong?'
This is a question that runs through my mind every other second of the day. Along with other classics like 'Have you ever felt used?', 'Have you ever felt suicidal?' and the mundane list goes on, with new additions every day. But today's question is 'Have you ever felt abused?' And this my friend is a Gerard Way specialty.
"Look at his hair !" a voice of disgrace shouted out, that voice belongs to the 'oh so beautiful' Melinda Rose. She has the exact likeness of a young Marilyn Monroe in appearance but her attitude stinks like... lets just say it stinks. I have no intention in degrading or judging others.' Why is that?' many ask me. I guess it's just one of the few things I like about myself, basically I'm not a bully. "It's so fucking greasy !" another person said, not fond of my hair.
"He probably uses all his mom's cooking oil to get a look like that," was Melinda's foul reply, see I told you she had a stinky attitude. I hate having my locker opposite 'The Glamour Squad', everyday it's the same crap from the threesome, but luckily today two of them graced my presence. "It's that punk rock crap he listens to that has him like that," her friend opted. All this time I was throwing books in and out of my locker into my bag, making louds noises to block out their sreeching voices, but now they had my attention.
"Yes I agree, punk is dead. Maybe he should take a hint and DIE too," she said with much emphasis. I slammed my locker and pretended to ignore that last comment. Now they were laughing, I don't see what's so funny in that. But truthfully they were right, I do wish I was dead, and I do wish the ceiling would fall crushing my every chance of survival. Life isn't that successful and neither is suicide.
Believe me I've tried it. I hurriedly stuffed my last book in my bag and proceeded to walk down the hall. "Hey, don't forget to die !" Melinda screamed out obviously at me, causing the few teenage 'robokids' in the hall to laugh along with her and her mini demon in training. Choking on what pride I had left I straddled down the hall proudly, lifting up my right hand and flipping her off, only to hear a loud gasp.
I'm gonna get my ass kicked. Stupid me ! I sulk once again. I have no problem with Melinda and 'The Glamour Squad' they are kittens compared to the shit I get otherwise. Soon enough I'll meet the lions and tigers, then I'll get another shiner to add to the one I got last week. And then I'll have to lie to my mom again, this time I'll say I ran into a door knob, pretty tacky, but the point is to get her to shut up.
Finally taking my eyes off the large, white floor tiles, I make it to my first class, literature. I'm right on time. The trick is to reach a little early but not too late, if you get me. If you reach early you'll be bullied by the jackasses who just love to tease, when they come in late. If you reach late, you'll surely get tripped on your way to your seat. Wait I was trying to make a point here, but just realised that it's a lose - lose situation anyway.
I take off my school jacket and hang it on the back of my chair. I sit in the second to last seat at the back of the class close to the window. I take a seat, instantly taking out my sketch book, making up time until the teacher comes. Drawing a picture of myself drugged up on punk music and dying in happiness was my mission for today. I was busy shading when someone grabbed my pencil, putting a long line through my art.
"What the fuck?" I looked up and it was someone I didn't want to get into a confrontation with. It was Bob, Bob Bryar to be exact. He's not my friend, he's not anyone's friend really. He just 'is'. I sigh and focus my sight on my drawing once again, digging my hand through my back pack I grabbed another pencil. I looked to my side to show Bob, no hard feelings, I've got another, but he was already in his seat, leaning back on the chair, with my pencil stuck behind his ear.
I fucking hate this school ! I examined my drawing trying to see how best I can fix it. I just grin, Bob kind of did me a favour, I decided to use the line to create one side of a guitar amp, which I am now adding to the drawing. Nice ! I continued with my freaking mind trip of inspiration, then some ass grabbed my pencil again. "Mother fucker" I mumbled under my breathe as I turned my head to the person. But this person I can give a hard wack.
"Stupid Toro !" I stood up and gave him a tap on his head, not like if he'll feel it, with that fro. "Hey, I felt that," I guess I stand corrected. I grabbed my pencil from his hand and took my seat. And he shoved me on the back of my head soon after. "Ahm it's wet," he sat behind me complaining and rubbed his hand on my shirt. "Hey man," I pushed his hand aside. "What is that?" oh gosh, not another hair complaint. "It's fucking water," I snapped, not grease, not cooking oil ! Fuck would it ever end.
Name : Gerard
Age : Too old to be alive
Goal : To at least have a pencil and a blood free face when school it out
'Have you ever felt like you didn't belong?'
This is a question that runs through my mind every other second of the day. Along with other classics like 'Have you ever felt used?', 'Have you ever felt suicidal?' and the mundane list goes on, with new additions every day. But today's question is 'Have you ever felt abused?' And this my friend is a Gerard Way specialty.
"Look at his hair !" a voice of disgrace shouted out, that voice belongs to the 'oh so beautiful' Melinda Rose. She has the exact likeness of a young Marilyn Monroe in appearance but her attitude stinks like... lets just say it stinks. I have no intention in degrading or judging others.' Why is that?' many ask me. I guess it's just one of the few things I like about myself, basically I'm not a bully. "It's so fucking greasy !" another person said, not fond of my hair.
"He probably uses all his mom's cooking oil to get a look like that," was Melinda's foul reply, see I told you she had a stinky attitude. I hate having my locker opposite 'The Glamour Squad', everyday it's the same crap from the threesome, but luckily today two of them graced my presence. "It's that punk rock crap he listens to that has him like that," her friend opted. All this time I was throwing books in and out of my locker into my bag, making louds noises to block out their sreeching voices, but now they had my attention.
"Yes I agree, punk is dead. Maybe he should take a hint and DIE too," she said with much emphasis. I slammed my locker and pretended to ignore that last comment. Now they were laughing, I don't see what's so funny in that. But truthfully they were right, I do wish I was dead, and I do wish the ceiling would fall crushing my every chance of survival. Life isn't that successful and neither is suicide.
Believe me I've tried it. I hurriedly stuffed my last book in my bag and proceeded to walk down the hall. "Hey, don't forget to die !" Melinda screamed out obviously at me, causing the few teenage 'robokids' in the hall to laugh along with her and her mini demon in training. Choking on what pride I had left I straddled down the hall proudly, lifting up my right hand and flipping her off, only to hear a loud gasp.
I'm gonna get my ass kicked. Stupid me ! I sulk once again. I have no problem with Melinda and 'The Glamour Squad' they are kittens compared to the shit I get otherwise. Soon enough I'll meet the lions and tigers, then I'll get another shiner to add to the one I got last week. And then I'll have to lie to my mom again, this time I'll say I ran into a door knob, pretty tacky, but the point is to get her to shut up.
Finally taking my eyes off the large, white floor tiles, I make it to my first class, literature. I'm right on time. The trick is to reach a little early but not too late, if you get me. If you reach early you'll be bullied by the jackasses who just love to tease, when they come in late. If you reach late, you'll surely get tripped on your way to your seat. Wait I was trying to make a point here, but just realised that it's a lose - lose situation anyway.
I take off my school jacket and hang it on the back of my chair. I sit in the second to last seat at the back of the class close to the window. I take a seat, instantly taking out my sketch book, making up time until the teacher comes. Drawing a picture of myself drugged up on punk music and dying in happiness was my mission for today. I was busy shading when someone grabbed my pencil, putting a long line through my art.
"What the fuck?" I looked up and it was someone I didn't want to get into a confrontation with. It was Bob, Bob Bryar to be exact. He's not my friend, he's not anyone's friend really. He just 'is'. I sigh and focus my sight on my drawing once again, digging my hand through my back pack I grabbed another pencil. I looked to my side to show Bob, no hard feelings, I've got another, but he was already in his seat, leaning back on the chair, with my pencil stuck behind his ear.
I fucking hate this school ! I examined my drawing trying to see how best I can fix it. I just grin, Bob kind of did me a favour, I decided to use the line to create one side of a guitar amp, which I am now adding to the drawing. Nice ! I continued with my freaking mind trip of inspiration, then some ass grabbed my pencil again. "Mother fucker" I mumbled under my breathe as I turned my head to the person. But this person I can give a hard wack.
"Stupid Toro !" I stood up and gave him a tap on his head, not like if he'll feel it, with that fro. "Hey, I felt that," I guess I stand corrected. I grabbed my pencil from his hand and took my seat. And he shoved me on the back of my head soon after. "Ahm it's wet," he sat behind me complaining and rubbed his hand on my shirt. "Hey man," I pushed his hand aside. "What is that?" oh gosh, not another hair complaint. "It's fucking water," I snapped, not grease, not cooking oil ! Fuck would it ever end.
Name : Gerard
Age : Too old to be alive
Goal : To at least have a pencil and a blood free face when school it out
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