Diary

Roxy asked me what it was like when we met. She said she wanted to know what made you love me. She wants to know why you care about my writing so much.

The only thing I could tell her is that you like smart people. You dig intellect, and I was it.

“He liked that you were smart.” Emphasis on the “were”.

“I am still smart, Rox, your dad is just an idiot.”

She giggled at me, “Okay.”

So, there it went, I began telling her how I met you. I excluded some dirty stuff…she’s a kid, y’know! But, for the simple reason she may find this when she gets older, I'll write it exactly as it went down.

It was a simple, dark morning; it was raining like a bitch outside. It was like God was pissing on New Jersey. Iero and I had gone into the empty gym to sin on God’s unholy ground; that’s when he was telling me about a party that popular jock was having. I didn’t care about the party, but Iero and I knew we could swipe the beer while everyone was being assholes.

In Mass, we had started to map out our plans, when you walked in. It wasn’t unusual, I had seen you the week before, and assume you were some asshole who I didn’t like, but then Iero called you over. You sat next to him in the pew, and leaned over, remember? You smiled at me, that nasty, crooked smile.

“Hey, I’m Gerard,” You had tried to seem cool, I think.

Yes, I bought it.

“Valleri Santos,” I had mumbled, “what’s your last name?”

“Why?”

“Well, no one just goes by their first here. Now, let’s hear it.”

Iero had cut it, “Its Way.”

You had smirked at him, angry, but gave a harsh laugh, “Thanks Iero.”

Iero winked, “No problem, Way.”

“So, you go by Santos?”

“Yep. That’s what Mother Mary and the sisters call me.”

From the time Iero told you our plan to steal booze, til the day we got married, you and I were together. I had stopped my daily “get-offs” with Iero for you, and I tried to look prettier for you. The little rouses I did to get you to be mine had worked. I’m more than sure that they worked against me, and more in your favor.

It hasn’t felt like real love in a long time. I don’t even think it was real love, to be honest. I just think we really liked each other a lot; we were both “artistic” minds with one goal: to make it. To do something exciting and say fuck the world. It didn’t work, because, hidden behind those amazing hazel eyes of yours, was some kind of mastermind goal of your own. I think you’ve been out to ruin me since we laid eyes on each other.

I want to know, exactly, what you felt for me. I want to know why you were so committed and eager to be with me. The God honest truth; I want to know what I still mean to you, if I do at all.

Am I just a speed bump in your life? Am I just some stupid bitch you took for a ride? What was it Way? I want to know what this all was. What was I to you?

What’s Roxy to you, now? Do you still love her? Do you think about her? Do you see her pretty little face when you close your eyes? Do you have her voice stuck in your head all day?
I deserve to know the truth, and so does your kid.