Keep the Faith

Silenced Cliché

Pain.

Fear.

Agony.

I was screaming.
Silently, at least.

I know the cliché. I know the look. I know the laughter I get as a gift in return, fully wrapped with a ribbon sewn from purely condescending glances. The things I have said have been mocked. The things I have said have been labeled as "cult-ish".

"How could you like a band so much?"
They would ask.

In all actuality, it wasn't a cult. It was a belief.
A hope, no, a knowledge, that things really were okay.

If you scrape the layers of paint off my face and peel the glue holding the mask to my skin, there is a truth. What is the truth? First, let me reveal to you my life before you judge this "cliché".

There is one characteristic that I have always been good at. There is always something there that no one sees. This characteristic of mine has been a curse in more ways than one; Not a blessing nor gift in any way at all. I am good at silence.

I was silent when I knew there was something wrong with my family.
I was silent because I was afraid to speak.
I was silent because I knew my dad was beating my mom.

I even kept quiet when a relative asked if I would like something to eat.

Silence.

I spoke to no one but my mother.

On a brighter note, we eventually left that 'home' of ours. I was only three-years-old when I fell silent. But that was only the first silence. My silence grew smaller as the next year passed; I began to speak. I even sang a solo for my preschool Christmas pageant-- in front of nearly four-hundred people. A year before I didn't talk. Then I was easily going on stage and singing All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth.

Mom met someone new. The monster.

You can never know where a monster lurks.

He does not hide in your closet.
He does not hide under your bed, nor under your staircase.

He lurks in libraries.
He hides in parks.
He watches children play, in hopes of catching a vulnerable one with his teeth and claws.
His eyes will spark the moment a child approaches, only to have his hope diminished by the call of a parent.

The monster and my mother married.

I was silent when he was too nice.
I was silent when he told me to take off my clothes.
I was silent when I cried and others asked what was wrong.

At this point, and even a few years later, I did not know who My Chemical Romance was.
My Chemical Romance didn't even know who they were yet.

Then came 2004. I didn't know how much that band would save my life.

I had this friend. Soul Sister we would call each other. Although, at the time, I didn't know how much of a lie it was, I thought we had a connection. An understanding. A truth in which we shared with one another. What is that truth?

Even I don't know.

I discovered a certain band through her.
I discovered a certain pathway to where I sent my anger and frustrations, which exited in the voice of a certain front man. Although my friend and I parted ways, I knew that this certain band and I wouldn't. They were my escape from the monster.

"For what you did to me,
I want to offer to you.
You get what everyone else gets,
you get a lifetime."


The moment I heard that line, it stuck. Instantaneously, I knew what it meant to me.

I kept silent for nearly eight and a half years. I never told the truth-- but I never told a lie. The truth? I lived a lie. I screamed silently in agony, facing the monster every day. I wanted him to bleed, to suffer, to hurt just as long as I did.

I went to court.
I told the truth.

I don't know what made me tell. I remember listening to My Chemical Romance, typing out a story on my computer. I remember realizing what I was doing to myself. I realized that I was not only hurting myself, but my family-- my real family as well. They were being lied to and deceived by the monster. It wasn't about me anymore. My reason for telling became completely unselfish reasons.

Because I heard that phrase.

"For what you did to me,
I want to offer to you.
You get what everyone else gets.
You get a lifetime.


The monster had a chance to not mess things up. The monster had a chance to rethink. The monster could have decided to not hurt me. But, the monster had what we all had. A lifetime.

My Chemical Romance is the reason I am here.
My Chemical Romance is the reason I came to be the way I am.

I could be dead.
I could still be suicidal.

But I am not. I am more alive than ever before-- with such a great debt to five men in particular. I told my secret. Gerard's screams broke the silence in which I lived my life. But, they helped me break the silence.

They helped me tell my secret, and by doing that, they saved my life.

And that is my cliché.