Six Feet Underground

May 12, 1995
Another day gone, another bottle gone, another bandage around my arm. <---- highlight of the day right there, folks. Let's celbrate.
Today's the day. Five fucking years now. Five. Mom is crying. I can't, I have no more tears. They are all gone. Wasted away, along with my body.
I've gotten skinnier. My clothes are baggier, they don't fit right. The jocks love it. They pantsed me yesterday. In front of everyone. Even her.
I slinked down the cold, lonely hall way. Hundreds of teens pushed past me, whispering to eachother about me. I wish I were invisable. I wish I could just disappear and hid in the safty of my room.
Three girls were standing in front of me, blocking my path. There were two lanes, you could say, in that halls, the right going twords the lunch room and the left going twords the junior high. If anyone stood in the way of the lanes, the whole system was messed up and it was damn near impossible to get to class on time
But it's not like I really wanted to go to class. Not to much to learn in math class when you don't get any word that comes out of the teachers mouth.
"Hey, Drunk!!" James shouted. "Come here, Fag!"
I obeyed aprehensively, scared of what would happen if I objected and ran. "Yeah?" I asked, trying not to sound scared or pissed.
"Come here," he demanded.
I stepped closer to him and in one swift move he pulled me pants down and pushed me onto the ground. My books fell out of my hands and spread across the dirty white floor. My legs twisted and I landed on my front, hitting the ground with such a force that it knocked the wind out of me. I wasn't that heavy, just all my weight comeing down that fast got to me.
Laughter rang in my ears as I lay on the dirty floor, coughing. I felt my self being pushed, forcing me to roll over onto my back. James was hovering over me.
"You actually thought I would be nice to you, Fag?" he spat. "Think again!"
With that, he punched me in the stomache and I felt some storng force slame into my nuts. I instantly reached down to protect them from any more harm and rolled over onto my side, in the fetal postion and gasping for breath. The pain was blinding. I actually couldn't see for a good thirty seconds.
When my vision returned all I saw was her. She was laughing and I was captured by her beauty. Her brown eyes glowed as she looked down at me, her brown hair fell down into her face and tickleing her nose.
I was snapped out of my little world when was lifted up off the ground and slamed up against the lockers. My arms fell limply next to my body. I felt my pants fall further down my legs. I burned red as I felt everyone's eyes on me, surveying my body and judging me for how I looked.
Yes, I like someone. My poor, wilted, black heart likes someone. Amazing, huh? Hardly.
I sometimes find my self dreaming of her. Well, till it turns into that nightmare. It haunts me. I can't stand seeing his death replay in my mind all day. To make it worse, I'm now seeing her death as well. She gets hit. Hard. By a bus, I think. Her head hits the pavement in front of the school. It cracks open and blood is everywhere. I just stare. I'm unable to move. Everyone around me gaspes and looks at me. They wisper things about me seeing that and it somehow got out. I wounder if it's true.
I also wounder if Mikey got reincarnated. There is this kid at school. He looks and acts just like him. He even laughs like him. I hate him, yet I find myself drawn to him. He reminds me so much of Mikes. I can't stand to see him everyday, but I can't wait. It's confussing.
One day, I hope this book gets out there. I want people to read it. To relize how much pain they put me through.
There are the thoughts again. I must go.
xoxo
Gerard

I finished reading the entry for that day. By the date, it was exactly twelve years after this entry. I had found this book, along with many others that go along with it, about a three months ago. I started reading it, and ironically, the first entry started the date I had found it, cept differant years. So it would be like I would be reading it and sitting there thinking about how weird it would be that twelve years ago, this Gerard guy went through this, wrote this.

I learned alot about him. He sometimes even drew pictures instead of an entry. They, of course, told a story that words can not express. That's probally why he drew it. He was really good at it too. I woundered if he was still alive or, like most entry's suggested, dead.
I always wanted to know if he got that girl or if she did die like he said. But I knew I would have to wait. I can't just read the next entry, it wouldn't be right.
So, I put the book with the other one's and turned off my reading lamp. I set the box on the floor and drifted off in a light slumber.