Keep the Faith

I am depression.

I am the sadness that creeps under your skin.
I am the dark blood that streams down your face as if I were salty, wet tears.
I am the dead sharp knife plunging through your racing heart when someone says ‘say cheese’ for a picture on which you always look like a two hundred year old zombie.
I am the addiction through which you dig your own grave.
I am self-destruction.

I am the hero who will always let you down. Member of My Chemical Romance.

“I want to fly to this… this place where people are happy, where everyone’s happy. You and I, we’ll be happy too! Come and fly with me!”

“People can’t fly, Gerard. You’ll crash.”

“That’s the point.”

Meet me.
I am the man who’s special.
I am extraordinary.
I am Wolverine in a human form. In a perfect form, too.
I am a human, with X-men powers and no flaws at all.
But I am forever disappointing.

I am change.

“What happened to the forever daydreaming Gerard?”

“I’m sick of chasing stupid childish dreams that died a very long time ago.”

“But why did you throw away all your action figures. You used to even kiss them goodnight every time you went to bed!”

“The child in me has died.”

It is dead. It’s dead and gone and buried and rotten and torn to pieces inside of me. It once was there but now it’s gone. Gone with the wind.

Deal with it.

There is no such thing as a child in me anymore. It was brutally murdered. People like you slowly stabbed it to death. The poor thing was left alone to slowly and painfully bleed to death. It’s people like you that are cruel murderers.

There is no such thing as a child in me.

I was a man who was forced to grow up too soon. My body was thirty-one, but deep inside I had always been a child. Until it decided to be killed.

That was what people recognised in me, that was what created a bond, a connection between us. We were nothing more than a bunch of kids, from 10 to 40 years old, who had had to grow up too soon.

And one day, these people turned their back on me, saying I’d become too … mature.
They gave the child in me the final stab.

There I stood, looking at my pale reflection in the mirror.

“Gotta make myself so pretty, so pretty pretty for the show,” I said happily. “So pretty. So so so pretty pretty pretty pretty. So pretty.”

I could simply never get enough of the black coal circles around my eyes, so I kept drawing more and bigger ones around them, until I looked like a thin, tiny Giant Panda. When I realised this, I knew I had to finish off the look.

I grabbed whitener and plenty of eyeliner while I struggled to get out of my clothes – they were very un-panda.

“I’ll be the Panda King and maybe tonight I’ll find my Panda Queen, at last!”

Contented with my Panda look, I danced around happily, as the white and black of my newfound, unclothed Panda skin darted with me.

“This is happiness!” I sang. I jumped onto the couch and then onto a desk, feeling superior. “I am the Panda King!”

I ran down the corridors, singing “I am the Panda King!”

After creating a Panda King dance, I dropped myself in the floor only to burst out in hysterical laughter.

Thousands of frightened eyes watched my antics, shaking their heads as they thought about how much I had changed.

Had I really? Maybe it was just them who had changed.
I do believe it was them who changed.

I am not really a different person that who I was before. I’ve just learnt how to enjoy life again after having to face so many liars and backstabbers. It was hard, for sure, but I’ve become a better person, haven’t I?
I think I have.

The world is emptiness.
It is darkness and terror.
It is tears and fears.
It is bleeding hearts and bodies.
It is forgetfulness.
It is lost hope and lost faith.

I am insanity and the long forgotten endless love for one five-pieced band.