Anonymous

I’m insane. You know that- and I think that was why you loved me so much. I did things that made you wonder if I should be in a straight jacket instead of in a band. I don’t need to be drunk to be insane- doesn’t stop me from poisoning myself on a nightly basis though- and sometimes I even scare myself on how I can be so sober and yet be dancing naked on top of our tour bus- singing Toxic by Britney Spears. I wonder about myself, even now, doing the seemingly innocent activity of looking through message boards for the latest My Chemical Romance gossip. There were a lot of rumors flying about that you had finally dumped Eliza. There were even more rumors about Mikey never returning- and when it came to that, I felt as lost as our fans. But I don’t want to get into Mikey; this was never really about him, anyway.

I admit though, looking at all the negative comments about your little ex-girlfriend made me smile sickly. I enjoyed the fact that everyone hated her as much as I did- and that was probably low of me. I should have had more sympathy, right? That would have been the nice thing to do, anyway. But when was I ever nice to the girl? Huh? Never. Why be two-faced now and act as if I give a damn about her feelings, when it was evident she never gave a damn about yours….

…Though it is probably really shitty to have your finance dump you over the phone; and plus the whole “he left you for another dude” probably didn’t make her feel any better.

But karma is a bitch, and it bit her in the fucking ass.

I heard you walk into the backroom- where I sat playing on the laptop- and quickly clicked out of the My Chemical Romance site, before you could see what I was doing. You took a seat next to me, leaning over to look at the site I was currently pretending to view- a guitar site, how cliché.

“Looking at porn honey?” You said as you kissed my shoulder. I scrunched my nose at the new nickname you came up with- honey….made us seem too normal.

“No, just guitar stuff,” I sighed and turned off the computer completely; no use wasting the energy for a stupid lie.

Your finger gently caressed my face, silently begging me to lay my eyes on your loving form. I would have happily obeyed your request, if my eyes hadn’t been mesmerized by the reflection in the dark screen before me. I didn’t look like me. There were dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. My normally vibrant green-or were they hazel- eyes were suddenly dulled and lifeless. Even my expression was less than normal- dead. White and pale, not from makeup. The darkness of the screen just added more definition and sharpness to my face; and I couldn’t help but notice…I have seen this man before.

Where, I didn’t know. When, I couldn’t remember.

Your finger fell from my face, defeated by the coldness that emitted from my once warm face. You were persistent, however, and cupped my chin to force my eyes on you. I was in no mood to fight with you at that point, when my body suddenly decided to go weak on me. I turned slowly and smacked my eyes against yours; noticing the small gasp that echoed from your mouth. I guess I was scarier than you thought.

“Frank,” you cooed, “are you feeling okay?”

I didn’t know, to be honest. I hadn’t taken any notice to my health, sanity, feelings, in weeks it seemed. Or was it months? Years even? Time seemed to suddenly escape me…even location. I looked out the closed window of our tour bus, trying to find what time of day it was; only to be met with harsh grayness. I could feel myself trembling; the lack of memories suddenly hit me. Where the fuck was I? That’s the phrase that kept dancing along my head, but never left my mouth. No, I couldn’t tell you…I couldn’t tell you my mind was cracked.

“Yeah,” I lied, “I’m fine.”

You cocked your head to the side and studied me intently, “Are you sure, you look sick…”

I shook my head, smiling in hopes that you would be blinded by the sudden warmth in my face…and abandon your mission. “Yeah, I guess I am tired.”

You relaxed a tad, “Yeah, well, today’s show was pretty amazing. I guess it just tired you out.”

We played? We were already on stage? Performed? Now the bus was moving. Now we were on to the next location. When did this all happen? Today? Today, but I could have sworn I just woke up- went to the computer…drowned myself in its hypnotic glow. I was just sleeping. I haven’t even eaten…

Or have I? Maybe I did...

“Yeah, maybe,” I sighed, “we should…go to bed?”

When you knitted your eyebrows together, I knew I had said the wrong thing. I said something to make you think I was snapping. Cracking. No I was fine. I had to be fine…why wouldn’t I be fine? I had everything I ever wanted, ha! I had the band I always wanted to play in, I had the music I always wanted to write, I had the boyfriend I always wanted. I had…everything…I fucking….wanted.

“Frank,” your voice seemed so distant now, “Frank…it’s only twelve…you never go to bed this early. Are you sure you are feeling alright?

“Yeah,” I laughed, “I’m fine, just tired.”

I moved away from you, walking towards the entrance of the bunk area when I stopped suddenly. I saw the scratched marks on the wall…the marks I created when I gripped the wall in pain, trying to escape. My eyes examined the marks, then fell down to the floor where dried blood still sprinkled the hard floor- dismissed by the others as remnants from a simple nose bleed. The way I remembered it, was that how it really happened…was it really as romanticized as I remembered. I said a line and he just stopped. Right? That’s how it happened- he heard my pleading voice, and the demon he had became left.

But I can see feel the pain of being ripped in half. Having someone invade me without permission and tear me apart. No. Fuck that. Having someone I trusted…

You put your hands on my shoulders, “Frankie?”

My body tensed- and I wanted to scream…I wanted to scream because you were coming after me right? You was coming back to hurt me. Again. And again. And again. So I swung around, and shoved you away; pushing myself against the wall that had my frantic nail marks tattooed into its skin. I couldn’t look at him. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked at the floor. The floor that had the blood- my blood. The blood that he shed. You really wanted to hurt me.

“Frankie?” Your voice was masked with concern; but I couldn’t bring myself to look…not at you. I couldn’t look into those green eyes that had been such a pleasure to gaze at…

“Go away,” I blurted out, “Go away from me.” Was that even proper grammar? I think I wanted to say something else, but I mixed it up. My words were swirling in a tornado and I couldn’t catch them. I couldn’t catch a sense. Fucking, I was being dragged into the wind. I could feel it pulling and ripping at my insides. Blood everywhere- this has happened before?

Your hands came in contact with me again- softer…hands on my shoulders- and I flinched. Still…don’t look into those eyes. Those lying eyes. I looked at your black shirt, that clung to your less than perfect body- but had been so perfect to me. I stared at your tight blue jeans, and your bat belt buckle. Stared helplessly.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice was firm, “Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

That was like a knife. Sharp and metal…going through my body. You said it with such venom, like my problems were raining on your fucking parade. Your fucking Black Parade. Fucking GERARD parade. That’s all you cared about at the end of the day. Fucking Gerard…Arthur…Way.

“Fuck off,” I snapped; didn’t sound as forceful though with my eyes hanging in defeat.

Now I expected his anger to rise- my own fault anyway…I was impossible to handle. I was a fucking mess. You would push me against the wall; “get over it” you will shout in my face. Maybe this time you will punch me- the words “I gave up normalcy for you!” would fall carelessly from your lips, land…and stab me again. That was how it was going to be right? Because, looking back, you always resort to your hands to teach me a fucking lesson.

But I heard you sigh, “I’m sorry.” It was soft; almost lost in the sounds of the road. You didn’t stay long to see the look in my eyes; you walked out to the bunk area. I wanted to scream for you to come back- hold me and call me stupid with dripping sweetness- but the words would never come. I stood against the wall, choking on tears and words; half hoping you would come back…half knowing your wouldn’t.

I managed to pull my self away from the wall that clung to me like a leech. I stared down the bus- through the open doors, past the bunk area and to the main living room- laying my eyes on you, laughing at some porn that Matt Cortez was looking at. I realized how far away I was getting from you…the path stretched for miles and miles; your body becoming an outline, a shadow, a blur…

A memory swirled in my head…

This has happened before…