Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Disclaimer's are dumb but entirely necessary. I own this particular piece of ficiton, but not any of the characters.
John Dear Letter
He found it on the kitchen table under a mug when he came home from a long drive he'd taken after he'd walked out. He'd walked out because they'd had a fight. They'd fought because God knows why. It read like this:
I’m not an idiot. I can plainly see you’re not in this. I can see your heart is not in this. And it makes me think maybe it never was.
It’s sweet that you play along and pretend everything is fine. Or maybe it’s just selfish. You’d rather not get into a big argument, is that it? Ending it yourself is too messy, so you’ll wait until I grow tired of us and let me finish the job. Or perhaps you’d just rather remain with the same safe comforts of this relationship you’ve been in since God knows when. No, wait, actually I know since when too. Do you?
It’s been three years, seven months, one week and five days.
Hardly a lifetime, but a significant amount of time nonetheless, wouldn’t you say?
I’d like you to know I gave my all this whole entire fucking time.
If you care to notice, my heart has been slowly cracking down the center recently. It hurts an awful lot.
I’m not sure if this is a John Dear letter or just a goodbye letter or a letter asking what happened, but it’s a letter that ends it all the same. So there you go. You didn’t have to do it. Congratulations.
Goodbye and I love you.
~*~
The letter was hard to make out. He had alternated between blotching the ink from tears and scribbling the words illegibly from anger while writing it. It read something like this:
I beg to differ. You are an idiot. My heart is in this and it always has been. I have no clue why you can’t see this.
I’m not playing along, either. I’m living this fucked up love story we’re in together. I am here and present and in love with you every minute of every day since three years, seven months, one week and four days ago.
It was four days, not five, by the way. We kissed on New Year’s Day at 12:01, so technically New Year’s Eve didn’t count as a day. Just thought you should know.
Yeah, I’d say it’s a pretty important span of time in my life.
I know you gave your all to this. Why do you think I’m so blind? I saw how hard you tried every day. I tried just as hard! At least I didn’t give up!
I have noticed. Bet you didn’t stop to see my heart splintering, did you? Too busy with your own heartbreak I suppose.
Doesn’t matter what kind of letter it was. You ended it, no matter what you called it when you did. So yeah, I guess I didn’t have to.
But I never would have.
Not that it matters. Because you’ve left with the cat and the pillow your mom gave us and the throw blanket from the bed and most of the books and half the records, even if some of them weren’t yours. Speaking of, you took my watch. And you took your laptop with those pictures from vacation and the notebooks with the hard copies of the songs you wrote, I wrote, we wrote. You took the framed photo from the day we exchanged rings too.
So I’m writing this letter to no one.
Goodbye Gerard and I love you too.
Frank
Author's Note: I had an "itch that needed to be scratched. Or at least, you know, shot in the face." Ten points if you can tell me who said that. This is the product of a self induced gloomy mood. Read, rate and review it if you'd like to.
John Dear Letter
He found it on the kitchen table under a mug when he came home from a long drive he'd taken after he'd walked out. He'd walked out because they'd had a fight. They'd fought because God knows why. It read like this:
I’m not an idiot. I can plainly see you’re not in this. I can see your heart is not in this. And it makes me think maybe it never was.
It’s sweet that you play along and pretend everything is fine. Or maybe it’s just selfish. You’d rather not get into a big argument, is that it? Ending it yourself is too messy, so you’ll wait until I grow tired of us and let me finish the job. Or perhaps you’d just rather remain with the same safe comforts of this relationship you’ve been in since God knows when. No, wait, actually I know since when too. Do you?
It’s been three years, seven months, one week and five days.
Hardly a lifetime, but a significant amount of time nonetheless, wouldn’t you say?
I’d like you to know I gave my all this whole entire fucking time.
If you care to notice, my heart has been slowly cracking down the center recently. It hurts an awful lot.
I’m not sure if this is a John Dear letter or just a goodbye letter or a letter asking what happened, but it’s a letter that ends it all the same. So there you go. You didn’t have to do it. Congratulations.
Goodbye and I love you.
~*~
The letter was hard to make out. He had alternated between blotching the ink from tears and scribbling the words illegibly from anger while writing it. It read something like this:
I beg to differ. You are an idiot. My heart is in this and it always has been. I have no clue why you can’t see this.
I’m not playing along, either. I’m living this fucked up love story we’re in together. I am here and present and in love with you every minute of every day since three years, seven months, one week and four days ago.
It was four days, not five, by the way. We kissed on New Year’s Day at 12:01, so technically New Year’s Eve didn’t count as a day. Just thought you should know.
Yeah, I’d say it’s a pretty important span of time in my life.
I know you gave your all to this. Why do you think I’m so blind? I saw how hard you tried every day. I tried just as hard! At least I didn’t give up!
I have noticed. Bet you didn’t stop to see my heart splintering, did you? Too busy with your own heartbreak I suppose.
Doesn’t matter what kind of letter it was. You ended it, no matter what you called it when you did. So yeah, I guess I didn’t have to.
But I never would have.
Not that it matters. Because you’ve left with the cat and the pillow your mom gave us and the throw blanket from the bed and most of the books and half the records, even if some of them weren’t yours. Speaking of, you took my watch. And you took your laptop with those pictures from vacation and the notebooks with the hard copies of the songs you wrote, I wrote, we wrote. You took the framed photo from the day we exchanged rings too.
So I’m writing this letter to no one.
Goodbye Gerard and I love you too.
Frank
Author's Note: I had an "itch that needed to be scratched. Or at least, you know, shot in the face." Ten points if you can tell me who said that. This is the product of a self induced gloomy mood. Read, rate and review it if you'd like to.
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