Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Our Lady of Sorrows
Our lady of Drunken Words
1 reviewIt's just another tour and just another night, and it was just another intoxication that made her sway into fantasy.
0Unrated
Van's Warped Tour 2008
Parc Jean Drapeau, Mtl, Canada
It was the only show she'd seen that was so intense. The only show that was WORTH seeing, the only tour venue that she'd give her soul to see again and again, or even just once. Among the various punk/rock groups, The Used could be found near Alesana and The Academy Is..., as well as OreSkaBand and so on and so forth. But the real reason SHE was there, wasn't for anyone else than the ONE group that she'd been religiously listneing to everyday for five years.
My Chemical Romance.
Oh sure, like any other normal fangirl, she'd imagined various scenes taht involved her meeting either Gerard Way, the frontman, or even Bob Bryar, on 'backscene' idol. Though her fangirl normalcy stopped there; she didn't to propose to anyone, much less harass them for an autograph. No, all she wanted to do was thank them—or at least ONE of them—for being there for her, knowingly or not, in her best, like in her worst of times.
They saved her life twice, actually.
She fiddled nervously with the retractable knife in her jeans' pocket; she'd brought it along with her just in case she'd bump into one of the band members. She'd get whoever she could to sign it. That way, every time she'd think about using it, she'd see those five faces, staring at her, telling her not to do it, not to break skin and let blood flow.
But of course, it's always blissfully wonderful to dream.
The sound of his voie, the minute she saw him, them, coming up on stage, she sighed. That happy, relieved sigh. It was like everything was just washed away and carried far, far away in the ocean, and would never come back. Her mind drew a complete blank as the guitar strummed in, and the recognised that song, that song that had hooked her from the beginning. I'm not okay. And she wasn't, but she'd forgotten about all of that the minute she saw his black hair, those beautiful guitars, that drum...
Song after song played, flowing through her mind and erasing thoughts as soon as they entered her head. And then the last song rolled by, Heaven Help Us. A beautiful song that she cherished dearly, almost more than anything. She'd copied the lyrics more than just a few times.And the few last notes faded and she didn't want them to leave and FUCK IT, she would scream.
"DEMOLITION LOVERS!"
it was everything had gone silent, especially for her. The band seemed to freeze, and all eyes were rivetted on the frontman, on the singer, on Gerard. Beautiful Gerard. He smiled, and seemed to say something like 'why the fuck not?'
And those notes started playing and his voice was low, and she sung along with him. And she liked to think he was looking at her and singing for her, for those fucked up relationships she'd had, for those abusers, for those fucking nights she'd cry herself asleep because her stupid excuse for a mother yelled at everyone for no reason. For all those cuts on her arms, for all those tears she shed...
And I'll drive on to the end with you
A liquor store or two
Oh yes, and sing for her for all those nights when she'd get drunk with her friends to forget everything. For all those drinks she stole from her parents, alone at home, at night, in her room, stuck on MSN because she'd slit her throat if she didn't spill her guts to someone, or at least found someone to distract her.
But at that moment, she couldn't take it anymore; she had been so anxious to meet with the band, so happy to be there, and they were already done. There were several words left to the song, and after it was over. MCR would leave here there, as unsatisfied as she was before she got there, and perhaps even more so. She would go home, cry, and waiting years until they passed through Canada yet again. And she just wouldn't have that.
She shoved her way through the crowd, ignoring her friends' calling behind her. She wanted to get away, in a little dark corner, slit her wrists and just sit there, trying to forget about everything and My Chemical Romance and Gerard and fuck it all she wanted to forget she was even alive. She started running as soon as she cleared what seemed to be an endless, tight crowd of obsessive fans. A few people were leaving, too, probably as fed up with everything as she was, having com eonly for MCR and nothing more or less.
She took out that little blu retractable knife from her pocket. She was cursing herself before she left home that morning, telling herself she'd never use it, let give it to Gerard or Frank or anyone at all. She'd probably go home without having said a word to any one of the five band members and feel empty and use it away and again, like she always did when she WASN'T listening to either of their three albums. If before, she felt guilty, now she blamed the entire world for her pain. She blamed everyone and everything, including the band, for what she was about to do.
She caught herself sobbing, tears rolling down her cheeks. She swore and muttered on about how weak she was and huffed a shaky breath. Before tripping over something--a foot, wires, a stray pole, SOMETHING--and falling flat on her face. The plastic retractable knife fell on the concrete pathway in a deaf clatter, and god, all she wanted to do was shove it in her throat or her chest. She pushed herself back up on her knees, barely noting the holes in her nearly brand-new skinny black jeans. Blood seeped through the scratched, thosetiny little gashes, and stained the dark pants the slightest bit. Her hands weren't in any better a state; she could've sworn she saw a little pebble just stuck up in the bleeding crevaces.
Voices started flooding into her ears. Had she been in such a profound daxze that she couldn't hear anyone or anything? It was a nice thought, but she ignored it for a moment, trying to shove herself back into reality. She vaguely heard the words 'cutter' and 'help her up' being thrown here and there, and apologies been muttered time after time. She was going to reach out for the knife that had had fallen, but she found it wasn't where she saw it land. She was dizzy, so dizzy...
"Fuck, she has a fever." she heard, and the voice was familiar. It was a nice voice, something she could get used to hearing everyday. Unlike her teachers' voices...
"We have to disinfect those." Were they referring to her wrists or her knees and hands?
"What's your name?" she looked down to her waist to see a tattooed arm helpng her up to her feet. Men in white and turquoise-ish uniforms just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and she was pretty sure that whatever was wrong with her--becuse something WAS wrong, she knew THAT much--wasn't anything too light, or good.
"Ren... Serenity." she manged to stutter, just barely managing to hold her head up and speaking a full word. She was fully aware of thae fact that any further communication was going to be impossible, and so it seemed the ones around her were just as aware of that fact as she was.
She heard 'bus' and 'call parents' and 'later tonight', but didn't really have the heart to put everything together. All she wanted was to sleep and--god fuck, where was that damn retractable knife? She really needed the sting of metal pressing into her skin. Maybe that would wake her up and steal her away from this sea of confusion she was in.
She was taken up a few steps and shoved into what she guessed was a bunk, and stipped of that black vest she had worn to the show. Come to think of it, it WAS a pretty stupid move. In the middle of july, in a crowd, during a punk-rock show, wearing... Skinny jeans , a shirt and a jecket over that. It was just getting fucking better by the motherfucking second. And as she turned around, she felt something humid slip off her forehead. She growled at the stupid thing and put it back in place, and then just slept.
----------------------------------------------
Ren woke up, most certainly feeling better than when she had apparently just passed out. But she only felt like she'd slept five minutes, as opposed to the hours she presumed she had slept.
"FUCKING son of a motherfucking bitchass cocksucking dumbfuck!" she swore exessively and loudly, quietly swearing a little more as she nursed her head. She had motionned to sit up when her head had rather violently slammed against something over it.
At that point, she took the time to process everything that had happened. She ran off from the crowd, fell on the concrete, scratches, pebble, blood, fever, headache,felt like dying and... Right, she'd been picked up and shoved into some tour bus--at least, she GUESSED it was a tour bus, because she didn't know a lot of people who'd had enough money to afford what seemed to be one FUCKING BIG bus. Ren noticed no one was around after a quick inspection of the location, and headed to what she assumed was the door that lead to, obviously, the 'parking lot'. Or at least, the obnoxiously large space that had been reserved for the bands in the park.
As soon as she stepped outside, she felt like she was suffocating. The air was thick with cigarette smoke. It made her sick. She'd tried smoking once; wasn't quite her thing. If memory served right, in fact, she'd been sick for a day and a half after her first smoke.
"God fuck..." Ren coughed, covering her mouth with her very bare, exposed arm. She stared at her limb in light wonder, just trying to remember how the hell she'd found herself without her jacket in the first place. She'd worn the stupid thing thinking she'd keep it all day, and hadn't thought about covering her very raw, slashed up wrists.
And just before she was about to go back inside to find a pair of nice, sharp scisors to play with, someone called out for her, someone she knew.
"Serenity!"
"Mom? The fuck?"
Rennie finally took note of how dark and starry the sky was(well, as starry as a downtown city sky could get) and cursed; her mother must've come down to the park when she was called because she figured her parents would be called after she basically passed out-- and that made her want those fucking scisors even god fucking damn MORE.
Her mother started ranting and ranting and whining like the little bitch she was. Ren stared behind her at her two friends, who had been nice enough to stay behind. Not like they would've had a choice anyways. After all, she was their lift back home, being the only one with a driver's licence and decent driving skills. Though, what she didn't get was their flushed expressions. It wasn't that hot out; in fact, the setting sun and rising moon had cooled everything down considerably. Ren found herself wishing she had her jacket back on now. She hid her wrists reflexively, hoping her mother hadn't seen them yet.
Because of COURSE her fucking bitch of a mother didn't KNOW.
"You're pretty fucknig lucky they got to you when they did!"
" Wuh... What? Who's THEY?" Gen asked innocently. She recieved dumbstricken looks as though she'd just asked the most stupid question in the world. She coughed a little more, and growled a little too viciously for everyone's liking. "GOD FUCK WHO THE FUCK is smoking like a motherfucking chimney?!"
There was a little cough to her right, and she nearly dropped dead.
Nearly.
She just contented herself with stumbling down the rest of the stairs of the bus.
"MC fucking R."
Parc Jean Drapeau, Mtl, Canada
It was the only show she'd seen that was so intense. The only show that was WORTH seeing, the only tour venue that she'd give her soul to see again and again, or even just once. Among the various punk/rock groups, The Used could be found near Alesana and The Academy Is..., as well as OreSkaBand and so on and so forth. But the real reason SHE was there, wasn't for anyone else than the ONE group that she'd been religiously listneing to everyday for five years.
My Chemical Romance.
Oh sure, like any other normal fangirl, she'd imagined various scenes taht involved her meeting either Gerard Way, the frontman, or even Bob Bryar, on 'backscene' idol. Though her fangirl normalcy stopped there; she didn't to propose to anyone, much less harass them for an autograph. No, all she wanted to do was thank them—or at least ONE of them—for being there for her, knowingly or not, in her best, like in her worst of times.
They saved her life twice, actually.
She fiddled nervously with the retractable knife in her jeans' pocket; she'd brought it along with her just in case she'd bump into one of the band members. She'd get whoever she could to sign it. That way, every time she'd think about using it, she'd see those five faces, staring at her, telling her not to do it, not to break skin and let blood flow.
But of course, it's always blissfully wonderful to dream.
The sound of his voie, the minute she saw him, them, coming up on stage, she sighed. That happy, relieved sigh. It was like everything was just washed away and carried far, far away in the ocean, and would never come back. Her mind drew a complete blank as the guitar strummed in, and the recognised that song, that song that had hooked her from the beginning. I'm not okay. And she wasn't, but she'd forgotten about all of that the minute she saw his black hair, those beautiful guitars, that drum...
Song after song played, flowing through her mind and erasing thoughts as soon as they entered her head. And then the last song rolled by, Heaven Help Us. A beautiful song that she cherished dearly, almost more than anything. She'd copied the lyrics more than just a few times.And the few last notes faded and she didn't want them to leave and FUCK IT, she would scream.
"DEMOLITION LOVERS!"
it was everything had gone silent, especially for her. The band seemed to freeze, and all eyes were rivetted on the frontman, on the singer, on Gerard. Beautiful Gerard. He smiled, and seemed to say something like 'why the fuck not?'
And those notes started playing and his voice was low, and she sung along with him. And she liked to think he was looking at her and singing for her, for those fucked up relationships she'd had, for those abusers, for those fucking nights she'd cry herself asleep because her stupid excuse for a mother yelled at everyone for no reason. For all those cuts on her arms, for all those tears she shed...
And I'll drive on to the end with you
A liquor store or two
Oh yes, and sing for her for all those nights when she'd get drunk with her friends to forget everything. For all those drinks she stole from her parents, alone at home, at night, in her room, stuck on MSN because she'd slit her throat if she didn't spill her guts to someone, or at least found someone to distract her.
But at that moment, she couldn't take it anymore; she had been so anxious to meet with the band, so happy to be there, and they were already done. There were several words left to the song, and after it was over. MCR would leave here there, as unsatisfied as she was before she got there, and perhaps even more so. She would go home, cry, and waiting years until they passed through Canada yet again. And she just wouldn't have that.
She shoved her way through the crowd, ignoring her friends' calling behind her. She wanted to get away, in a little dark corner, slit her wrists and just sit there, trying to forget about everything and My Chemical Romance and Gerard and fuck it all she wanted to forget she was even alive. She started running as soon as she cleared what seemed to be an endless, tight crowd of obsessive fans. A few people were leaving, too, probably as fed up with everything as she was, having com eonly for MCR and nothing more or less.
She took out that little blu retractable knife from her pocket. She was cursing herself before she left home that morning, telling herself she'd never use it, let give it to Gerard or Frank or anyone at all. She'd probably go home without having said a word to any one of the five band members and feel empty and use it away and again, like she always did when she WASN'T listening to either of their three albums. If before, she felt guilty, now she blamed the entire world for her pain. She blamed everyone and everything, including the band, for what she was about to do.
She caught herself sobbing, tears rolling down her cheeks. She swore and muttered on about how weak she was and huffed a shaky breath. Before tripping over something--a foot, wires, a stray pole, SOMETHING--and falling flat on her face. The plastic retractable knife fell on the concrete pathway in a deaf clatter, and god, all she wanted to do was shove it in her throat or her chest. She pushed herself back up on her knees, barely noting the holes in her nearly brand-new skinny black jeans. Blood seeped through the scratched, thosetiny little gashes, and stained the dark pants the slightest bit. Her hands weren't in any better a state; she could've sworn she saw a little pebble just stuck up in the bleeding crevaces.
Voices started flooding into her ears. Had she been in such a profound daxze that she couldn't hear anyone or anything? It was a nice thought, but she ignored it for a moment, trying to shove herself back into reality. She vaguely heard the words 'cutter' and 'help her up' being thrown here and there, and apologies been muttered time after time. She was going to reach out for the knife that had had fallen, but she found it wasn't where she saw it land. She was dizzy, so dizzy...
"Fuck, she has a fever." she heard, and the voice was familiar. It was a nice voice, something she could get used to hearing everyday. Unlike her teachers' voices...
"We have to disinfect those." Were they referring to her wrists or her knees and hands?
"What's your name?" she looked down to her waist to see a tattooed arm helpng her up to her feet. Men in white and turquoise-ish uniforms just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and she was pretty sure that whatever was wrong with her--becuse something WAS wrong, she knew THAT much--wasn't anything too light, or good.
"Ren... Serenity." she manged to stutter, just barely managing to hold her head up and speaking a full word. She was fully aware of thae fact that any further communication was going to be impossible, and so it seemed the ones around her were just as aware of that fact as she was.
She heard 'bus' and 'call parents' and 'later tonight', but didn't really have the heart to put everything together. All she wanted was to sleep and--god fuck, where was that damn retractable knife? She really needed the sting of metal pressing into her skin. Maybe that would wake her up and steal her away from this sea of confusion she was in.
She was taken up a few steps and shoved into what she guessed was a bunk, and stipped of that black vest she had worn to the show. Come to think of it, it WAS a pretty stupid move. In the middle of july, in a crowd, during a punk-rock show, wearing... Skinny jeans , a shirt and a jecket over that. It was just getting fucking better by the motherfucking second. And as she turned around, she felt something humid slip off her forehead. She growled at the stupid thing and put it back in place, and then just slept.
----------------------------------------------
Ren woke up, most certainly feeling better than when she had apparently just passed out. But she only felt like she'd slept five minutes, as opposed to the hours she presumed she had slept.
"FUCKING son of a motherfucking bitchass cocksucking dumbfuck!" she swore exessively and loudly, quietly swearing a little more as she nursed her head. She had motionned to sit up when her head had rather violently slammed against something over it.
At that point, she took the time to process everything that had happened. She ran off from the crowd, fell on the concrete, scratches, pebble, blood, fever, headache,felt like dying and... Right, she'd been picked up and shoved into some tour bus--at least, she GUESSED it was a tour bus, because she didn't know a lot of people who'd had enough money to afford what seemed to be one FUCKING BIG bus. Ren noticed no one was around after a quick inspection of the location, and headed to what she assumed was the door that lead to, obviously, the 'parking lot'. Or at least, the obnoxiously large space that had been reserved for the bands in the park.
As soon as she stepped outside, she felt like she was suffocating. The air was thick with cigarette smoke. It made her sick. She'd tried smoking once; wasn't quite her thing. If memory served right, in fact, she'd been sick for a day and a half after her first smoke.
"God fuck..." Ren coughed, covering her mouth with her very bare, exposed arm. She stared at her limb in light wonder, just trying to remember how the hell she'd found herself without her jacket in the first place. She'd worn the stupid thing thinking she'd keep it all day, and hadn't thought about covering her very raw, slashed up wrists.
And just before she was about to go back inside to find a pair of nice, sharp scisors to play with, someone called out for her, someone she knew.
"Serenity!"
"Mom? The fuck?"
Rennie finally took note of how dark and starry the sky was(well, as starry as a downtown city sky could get) and cursed; her mother must've come down to the park when she was called because she figured her parents would be called after she basically passed out-- and that made her want those fucking scisors even god fucking damn MORE.
Her mother started ranting and ranting and whining like the little bitch she was. Ren stared behind her at her two friends, who had been nice enough to stay behind. Not like they would've had a choice anyways. After all, she was their lift back home, being the only one with a driver's licence and decent driving skills. Though, what she didn't get was their flushed expressions. It wasn't that hot out; in fact, the setting sun and rising moon had cooled everything down considerably. Ren found herself wishing she had her jacket back on now. She hid her wrists reflexively, hoping her mother hadn't seen them yet.
Because of COURSE her fucking bitch of a mother didn't KNOW.
"You're pretty fucknig lucky they got to you when they did!"
" Wuh... What? Who's THEY?" Gen asked innocently. She recieved dumbstricken looks as though she'd just asked the most stupid question in the world. She coughed a little more, and growled a little too viciously for everyone's liking. "GOD FUCK WHO THE FUCK is smoking like a motherfucking chimney?!"
There was a little cough to her right, and she nearly dropped dead.
Nearly.
She just contented herself with stumbling down the rest of the stairs of the bus.
"MC fucking R."
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