Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > 100 MCR oneshota
xxxxxxx.....choose whoever you want to be the narrator, i just think its a very gee kinda thing......xxxxxxxxxx
Playing the guitar meant the world to Frank.
If he was sad, he’d go and play something sad and/or soppy like ‘Hero’ by Enrique Inglesias.
If he was happy, he’d play his heart out on stage.
And if he was just feeling like Frank, well he’d just piss around on Guitar Hero 3.
But all that’s changed now.
Ever since that day, it breaks my heart to see him look at Pansy, his precious guitar, knowing he’ll pretty much never play it again.
You see, this is all my fault. Me and Frank were messing around in the car after going out for a coffee, and I turned towards him and jokily pushed him so he swerved slightly, he was driving the car you see.
I did it a couple of times, getting slightly more boisterous with each shove until I pushed him so hard, that he ended up swerving the car into a tree.
It was a horrible crash, we both ended up in hospital for a fair amount of time, but Frank got the worse deal. I only
He was dangling his left wrist out of the driver side window when we crashed. His hand was crushed between the car and the tree when he tried to turn away from the tree.
The doctors tried all they could to save it, but in the end they had to do what they had to do.
They amputated his hand and wrist.
The saddest thing was that apparently when he woke up after the op he didn't realise for like 4 hours, and then the crying and hysterics started. I didn't know because I had asked to be moved to another room so I didn't have to see his face when he found out. I’m a coward, I know, but what would you do in that situation? He’s one of my best friends, and I’ve destroyed him.
It’s been about 4 months now, and he tells me he doesn’t blame me, but I really think he does, and it just makes me feel worse that he hasn’t screamed at me yet, at least if he screamed at me I could have a reason to feel really bad.
At least I can get over the physical scars, most of mine have faded. But every morning when Frank wakes up he has to see the empty space where he hand should be. He stares at it, at the stump which should be holding his guitar, playing his heart out, anything but this.
I can’t even bear to look at his face, let alone his arm, knowing that if I hadn’t messed around, he will still be able to do everything he loves.
He’s done so well to adapt, having to do everything with one hand, but despite the brave face he puts on, I hear him crying at night sometimes.
And yeah, there are these amazing new prosthetic arms that can do everything, but still he could never play guitar, not to the level he was before.
What also really got to me was when I walked through the door and he was sat on the sofa, strumming with his right hand and the look on his face, like the look of a wounded animal, it made me want to cry.
I just wish I could go back in time and stop myself from being such a dick. Hell, if it would stop Frank’s dreams from being shattered I’d go back to when we were kids and never become friends with him.
I’d sacrifice all that for him, just to see his smile reach his eyes, just to know that nothing is my fault.
Playing the guitar meant the world to Frank.
If he was sad, he’d go and play something sad and/or soppy like ‘Hero’ by Enrique Inglesias.
If he was happy, he’d play his heart out on stage.
And if he was just feeling like Frank, well he’d just piss around on Guitar Hero 3.
But all that’s changed now.
Ever since that day, it breaks my heart to see him look at Pansy, his precious guitar, knowing he’ll pretty much never play it again.
You see, this is all my fault. Me and Frank were messing around in the car after going out for a coffee, and I turned towards him and jokily pushed him so he swerved slightly, he was driving the car you see.
I did it a couple of times, getting slightly more boisterous with each shove until I pushed him so hard, that he ended up swerving the car into a tree.
It was a horrible crash, we both ended up in hospital for a fair amount of time, but Frank got the worse deal. I only
He was dangling his left wrist out of the driver side window when we crashed. His hand was crushed between the car and the tree when he tried to turn away from the tree.
The doctors tried all they could to save it, but in the end they had to do what they had to do.
They amputated his hand and wrist.
The saddest thing was that apparently when he woke up after the op he didn't realise for like 4 hours, and then the crying and hysterics started. I didn't know because I had asked to be moved to another room so I didn't have to see his face when he found out. I’m a coward, I know, but what would you do in that situation? He’s one of my best friends, and I’ve destroyed him.
It’s been about 4 months now, and he tells me he doesn’t blame me, but I really think he does, and it just makes me feel worse that he hasn’t screamed at me yet, at least if he screamed at me I could have a reason to feel really bad.
At least I can get over the physical scars, most of mine have faded. But every morning when Frank wakes up he has to see the empty space where he hand should be. He stares at it, at the stump which should be holding his guitar, playing his heart out, anything but this.
I can’t even bear to look at his face, let alone his arm, knowing that if I hadn’t messed around, he will still be able to do everything he loves.
He’s done so well to adapt, having to do everything with one hand, but despite the brave face he puts on, I hear him crying at night sometimes.
And yeah, there are these amazing new prosthetic arms that can do everything, but still he could never play guitar, not to the level he was before.
What also really got to me was when I walked through the door and he was sat on the sofa, strumming with his right hand and the look on his face, like the look of a wounded animal, it made me want to cry.
I just wish I could go back in time and stop myself from being such a dick. Hell, if it would stop Frank’s dreams from being shattered I’d go back to when we were kids and never become friends with him.
I’d sacrifice all that for him, just to see his smile reach his eyes, just to know that nothing is my fault.
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