A Twist of Fate
Introduction
Five years ago I was a naive 18 year old girl, fresh from high school. Before that I was parentless, addicted to drugs, stabbed, and lost. I didn't know of any place I could turn to for help, and I only trusted my brothers, and the ex love of my life.
Things were awful back then, filled with twists and turns in the darkness, from which I know now, I never fully recovered from. Bad things seemed good and good things seemed apalling.
I didn't have a troubled childhood, only a rough road to adulthood, right there in the folds of time, where anything can happen and those same events determined what sort of person I turned out to be.
I still felt the heartbrake to this day. The stiff, uncomfortable feeling of rejection, penetrated deep under my skin and buried itself in my DNA. The pain was a part of me now, duplicating just as fast as the cells in my body do.
The facts pointed to me, an emotional wreck.
I closed the scrapbook I kept of My Chemical Romance. Every newspaper or magazine article, picture, and ticket stub I could get my hands on, were in this scrapbook. Not one person could tell me I knew nothing about my brothers and their band, because I knew. I followed every move they made. They are my family after all.
But of course, I learned from fans, and interviewers in the UK. I never once talked to my brothers after that day at the airport. I refused to. I was my own person now.
"Emily?" My husband, Jake, called out for me somewhere downstairs. We had been married for a year, after having met in college. He was my one true love now, the only thing that made me happy.
I got up from the closet floor and walked out into our bedroom, where I went to the nightstand and pulled open the bottom drawer. My hand clasped around a little, orange container. Depression medication, as perscribed by my therapist.
I popped open the lid and took two.
"Emily?" Jake poked his head into the room, "There you are. Are you ready?"
I nodded and put the bottle back into the drawer. It was time to go to the opening of my new photography studio.
Things were awful back then, filled with twists and turns in the darkness, from which I know now, I never fully recovered from. Bad things seemed good and good things seemed apalling.
I didn't have a troubled childhood, only a rough road to adulthood, right there in the folds of time, where anything can happen and those same events determined what sort of person I turned out to be.
I still felt the heartbrake to this day. The stiff, uncomfortable feeling of rejection, penetrated deep under my skin and buried itself in my DNA. The pain was a part of me now, duplicating just as fast as the cells in my body do.
The facts pointed to me, an emotional wreck.
I closed the scrapbook I kept of My Chemical Romance. Every newspaper or magazine article, picture, and ticket stub I could get my hands on, were in this scrapbook. Not one person could tell me I knew nothing about my brothers and their band, because I knew. I followed every move they made. They are my family after all.
But of course, I learned from fans, and interviewers in the UK. I never once talked to my brothers after that day at the airport. I refused to. I was my own person now.
"Emily?" My husband, Jake, called out for me somewhere downstairs. We had been married for a year, after having met in college. He was my one true love now, the only thing that made me happy.
I got up from the closet floor and walked out into our bedroom, where I went to the nightstand and pulled open the bottom drawer. My hand clasped around a little, orange container. Depression medication, as perscribed by my therapist.
I popped open the lid and took two.
"Emily?" Jake poked his head into the room, "There you are. Are you ready?"
I nodded and put the bottle back into the drawer. It was time to go to the opening of my new photography studio.