Anonymous

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

What a fucking crock of shit!

It wouldn’t be the first time a fucking cliché screwed me over, but like a fucking idiot I didn’t see it coming. I should have. Oh I should have. I would be gone from your sight, with only limited communication; you couldn’t even hear my desperate voice on a daily basis. In fact, I think towards the end of my leave, you started getting tired of my attempts to reach you; sounding bored when we talked as if…as if you didn’t care about me.

But SHE! Oh she was up your fucking ass all day every day. Like a lost little dog, wandering around for you; keeping you from fans, from the band, from ME. Oh she was a sinister little bitch. She knew what she wanted; she wanted you all to herself. And not because she loved you- not even a second did the thought of love ever cross her shallow mind- but because she knew she could use you…your fame…your fans…to propel her career. I saw behind her lying eyes and fake smiles; I saw an ugly monster behind the mask.

What even, oh man, what even got me more royally pissed was her little hints. Despite everyone telling her to keep your private life private, she continued to ignore those demands and post little hints on myspace, buzznet, and her away message. She wasn’t that stupid- she knew fans watched her like she was Paris fucking Hilton- “Oh what is she gonna say now? Oh is she really dating Gerard. Oh what the hell is with her copying his hair style, what doesn’t she have a fucking mind of her own?” Okay the last part was me, but I am sure that’s what they were thinking.

Oh her AIM was insufferable. I could tolerate it most of the time- staring daggers at her unoriginal name hoping one would stab her in the eye. But I could deal with it. I could sleep thinking she was someone you didn’t love. She didn’t have any pictures of you together. No. But think of all the pictures you and I shared. Even the ones that look all buddy buddy- everyone could smell the emotion flowing around us when we touched innocently. Ha, I bet anything she even knew it. And she was scared because she knew I was going to win you back. You were mine. Gerard Way was mine!

But then, she ruined that dream, my fantasy, when she put pictures of you together as her aim icon. I gripped the mouse in my hand with the urge to break it. I just wanted the shattered pieces to cut my wrist again. This time no one would be around to save me. Ha, I could die angry and haunt that bitch’s ass until I forced her over a cliff. But, alas, the mouse didn’t break, and the shards didn’t cut my skin and caused me to die. No, instead I shut down the computer and threw myself onto your bed. Yes, I had never left your bed. I wanted to sleep my life away- never come back to tour. Quit My Chemical Romance and focus on Leathermouth.

But I could never do that…I could never pull myself away from you.

So when I did, eventually, come back to the band to play…I tried so hard to act cool. Like I wasn’t hurting deep inside. Of course, that worked for like a fucking second. Cause I once I saw you two swap spit and act all mushy on each other- I went insane. Not to your face, of course, I didn’t want to add to your spiral down- yes, you were spiraling down, just try to deny it. I’m not a moron, Gerard, I know when you are falling. Usually, I was the one to catch you before you hit rock bottom…but this time you wouldn’t let me get close enough. You relied on her and she was as reliable as George Bush.

You avoided me. Avoided me like the fucking plague. Even on stage- you never came near my side. No more kisses to drive fans crazy, no more secret touches to send shivers down my spine; causing me to fuck up whatever cord I was playing. No, you remained in the middle- sometimes going towards Ray, sometimes towards Mikey, you went to the back a lot to Bob…like you were trying to run away from the thousands of fans cheering you on. It was almost pathetic to watch, so I just did my thing. I played the songs we wrote and tried to make up for your lack of showmanship.

Oh but off stage! Oh that was the worse. Why were you taking your anger out on the fans now? Was she that scared that a little sixteen year old fan was going to take you away from her that she had to slander their names as well? I saw their disappointed faces when you gave them half ass hugs, when you hardly looked at them when they called your name. YOUR name Gerard. Because you are their hero! Not me, not Mikey, not Ray, not Bob. You Gerard. They love you despite everything you’ve been through. Now you are going to shun them because your two bit whore tells whispers in your ear: “They don’t love you, only I do.” She is like a drug. Like the drugs you used to be so addicted to. She has complete control over your mind and body. You aren’t Gerard anymore. Who the fuck are you?

But here, here is the straw that broke the camels back. Oh see, you always said you sang for the fans. The fans, Gerard, the people who got us this far. But at that concert, you sang to her. You gave her “Give Em Hell Kid!” You sang it to her! Why? That song about missing someone so much. She was standing right in the mother fucking crowd, how can you fucking miss her? Why because you cock wasn’t buried in her disease infested vagina. Well, like you fucking thought I was going to let that go after seeing the contorted looks of our betrayed fans. Once you moved away from her and continued your stupid stage routine, I crossed the stage, turned to her…and spat right in her ugly fucking face. Of course, the rest of the band thought I was just spiting randomly, but not the fans. The fans knew who I was aiming for. And from the sinister glint in their wonderful eyes, I knew they appreciated it.

She didn’t, of course, but when she went to tattle on me like a five year old, to my surprise Ray stopped her. Ray, who was always the level headed one, backed her against the tour bus. He looked at her with rage in his eyes, and his fro began to move on its own, like the snakes of Medusa.

“You tell. I tell.” That’s all he had to say to invoke fear in her ugly eyes. She nodded her head and walked into the tour bus after you.

Bob and I walked up to Ray. “Tell him what?” Bob asked.

“I don’t know,” Ray shrugged, “but I know someone like her has to have a secret or two.”

We all stared at you from outside the tour bus as she touched your shirt, your hair; whispering sweet nothings in your ear, causing your already flushed face to brighten. She asked you a question, and you nodded with a full blown smile. A cocky smile. Like you were some kind of God, and she was a virgin giving herself to you (virgin, haha, that’s a fucking laugh). She was stroking your ego (as well as other parts of your body I’d rather not mention) and you were enjoying every fucking second of it. You were climbing up that pedestal that you swore you would never sit upon. That pedestal she needed you to be on- what good were you if you weren’t popular? She needed you to be popular for her to be popular.

The three of us let out a sigh when she dragged you into the bunk area. We sighed louder when Matt and Mikey ran out like maniacs- sick looks plastered on their faces. I’d rather not imagine what kind of sins were being committed in that public setting. I only hoped Worm got out in- never mind, he ran out scratching his eyes out. Guess Eliza’s naked body isn’t as desirable as you thought. Or maybe they just didn’t want to see your penis.

The three of us started walking to where our fans were waiting- Mikey close behind, while Matt and Worm went to Starbucks to get coffee. As we got closer we heard the name being chanted.

“Gerard! Gerard! Gerard!”

The same name she was chanting in your bunk- however, our fans put more emotion in your name than she did…and yet you chose her over them. I shook my head at the thought and continued to our fans- friends. Everyone looked at me perplexed…some were eager to see me, others asked where you were. What was I going to say?

“Oh, Gerard isn’t feeling good…”

I hate you for making me lie to our fans. I am not you Gerard. I never want to be what you have become.