Brick by Boring Brick

That night, in the first time for months, I hadn’t dreamt; of nothing at all, not even my Frankie. And that hurt, when I woke up to the stupid alarm clock, warning me to get my lazy ass up to get, yet again, beaten up at school, ignored by my parents, beaten up again, and come back to nothing at all. It was worst today, though; I hadn’t had an amazing dream to make me droll about it the whole day. Today, I had nothing to hang on to survive; maybe Frankie had already died, and I was still alive, trying to survive for him. Maybe I wouldn’t see him back, ever again, and still I was trying to go through the day for him; maybe I was surviving for nothing.

I got up from my bed, tears already escaping my eyes as the single thought of the death of the only person who honestly understood me and really knew me floated my mind, clouding it with thoughts of loneliness and pain that was even worse than when I hurt my body rolling down that hill with him, in my dreams; couldn’t I change my own dreams, so Frankie would live forever? Couldn’t I invent the cure for Cancer in my fucking dreams, so he’d somehow make it out of the messy disease he’d got in? I just wanted to not be lonely anymore, to have always an escape from the cruel real life I had; I just wanted somebody to love me, and Frankie was that person. Why he wanted me to get closer to real Frank, though, was behind my comprehension. Real Frank was just so… mean and hateful towards me; he had nothing to do with dream Frankie, that treated me so well and loved me like no one else could… Why would Frankie [my dream boy] want me to be more intimate with Frank [real boy]?

As I made my way to my bathroom, in order to take a cold shower so I would be able to face reality, I thought about all the moments I had spent with my Frankie, all those nights I’d dreamt of him, rolling down so many hills, facing so many stars, kissing under so many clouds and rain, holding each other’s hand as we walked on the beach… All those moments were getting down to me as I thought about what he had said to me the day before; "I have cancer”… "You need the other Frank and he needs you. No matter what happens, don't give up.. But remember this, the hardest part of this is leaving you."

And just like that, I burst into tears again, sliding onto my bathroom floor, my back against the cold wall; I hugged my chest, in a failed attempt to hold my heart and feelings altogether inside of it, not wanting to let that crashing feeling put all his weight on me, making me go further and further on that whirling motion towards the bottom of a dark ocean of poison and breath-stealing water, that was drowning me and killing me, not even giving me a chance to fight back. I couldn’t break down there; not right before I had to go to school. I knew that, when I arrived, my eyes would still be bloodshot, screaming to the world that the already broken Gerard Way, was even more broken, now. He was a shattered piece of a glass that no one dared to touch, yet everyone broke; he was dying, though the reality wasn’t killing him.

-~-~-

What I expected, when arriving at school that day, was a fairytale, comparing to what really happened; as soon as I passed those terrifying gates that lead to my personal piece of Hell, I saw him. Not my dream Frankie, but real Frank. Having only a quick sight of him was enough to send me over the edge, again, and the tears avenged themselves for all those times I held them inside, encaging them; now, they were taking revenge on me for all those times I made them my prisoners, by embarrassing me in front of everyone and also by hurting me really badly. They were stinging my eyes like needles, staining my tears like paint, making everyone notice how weak I really was; not that they thought of me as a fucking strong guy, but I didn’t want them to see in all my sorrow.

I didn’t want to cry in front of them; I was showing them my weaknesses, my soft spots, the ‘me’ that was sensitive and just… weak. That was all I was; a weak motherfucker that didn’t deserve to live, and was being tortured in any kind of way that could be found. I was a tortured soul that still dared to live, even after all those warnings from someone, telling me I should just hand myself on a rope; maybe I’d do that, after my Frankie was gone. Or maybe I’d overdose myself with so many different pills, the doctors wouldn’t be able to tell which ones were the ones to kill me. Or maybe I’d just slit my throat, staining my bedroom floor, leaving it there so that my so called parents would have to be remembered every single day of the son they ignored and simply killed himself, out of frustration and to escape many years of several pain; or maybe they wouldn’t even care to go my room, so they wouldn’t even imagine they had one dead body out there. Yeah, I think Mikey would be the only one to notice; at the time, though, I wouldn’t be thinking of Mikey when killing myself, I’d only be thinking of how unfair life had been towards me, taking away from me all the things people I cared about. It all had started with my grandma, one year back…

Another lonely day, spent at my lonely room, away from my non-caring family; well, that is, except for my non-caring parents and my worried little brother that could do nothing against my parents’ ignorance.

Looking at my cell-phone, I noticed that that wasn’t going to be one of those days, after all; it was Sunday on the summer vacations, which meant I’d go visit my grandma, even if I had to walk there, because of the lack of money. I smiled; my grandma was one of the few people that actually cared about me; in fact, only her and Mikey cared if I was still alive or not. She was a way better parent for me than my parents ever were; she always took care of me since I was little, feeding me when my parents forgot to do so, buying me clothes, teaching me how to draw, sing and play the guitar… She was my haven and also my idol; I would never ever want her to go away from me.

I quickly got up, taking a quick shower and dressing up, excited to go meet my nana, again; I had so much to tell her, already, even though my life was boring. I had many drawings and sketches I wanted to show her, a little song that I had tried to write and also tell her about the many talks me and Mikey had been having, lately.

Searching through my bedtime drawer, I realized I still had enough money for the bus that would get me to my grandma’s house; I smiled, thinking that my grandma was the only thing that would make every single day of mine tolerable.

As I was leaving the house, all my money and my keys [that Mikey had to give to me himself, since my parents never cared to do it] stuffed in my pockets, my leather jacket’s zip zipped all the way up, because of the cold weather that was forming outside, I noticed no one was home, which surprised; even though my parents didn’t care about me, I was used to see them on the kitchen, whispering things to each other with serious faces. I didn’t let that get to me, though; I walked to the nearest bus station to my house, and patiently waited ten minutes for a bus to show up.

Riding on the bus was always a teaching experience; I could pay close attention to other people’s problems, other people’s lives, forgetting about my own painful and almost unbearable life. Good thing I had my Grandma, otherwise I’d be a big ball of nothing; she was everything to me. I remember asking her, when I was a little, to never ever leave me alone, in my life; and she hadn’t broke the promise. She wasn’t one to break her promises, and I always relied on that fact to keep me sane; she’d never leave me alone.

I arrived my Grandma’s house sooner that what I had expected; I guess I lost myself when I was hearing the other people babbling about their lives. I didn’t need to knock; my Grandma had given me a spare key, knowing that I’d want to visit her very often.

I made my way to her kitchen, smiling towards the drawing I had done when I was little, of me and her, saying ‘I love you Granny Elena’ on an unreadable letter that she kept in her refrigerator door; I know, how cliché, right? I mean, almost; normally, the parents had those kind of drawings, but since my parents couldn’t care less for me, I had always done everything for my Grandma. I instantly went to the coffee machine, turning it on [yes, my Grandma had a coffee machine at her odd house; she knew I loved coffee, ‘kay?] and waiting patiently for it to be ready to make me and Grandma an amazing coffee. A few minutes later, I took the two mugs of coffee with me to the living room, where I just knew my Grandma would be; when I got there, though, she was asleep. She looked so peaceful and calm, that I didn’t dare to wake her up; the phone wanted that to happen, though.

As I was looking over at my Granny’s sincere pale face, her old phone started ringing, making me jump in my seat on the couch across hers; I instantly put my own mug in the table, next to the one I had already settled down, and reached my hand to the phone that was on that same table, still looking at her, picking it up angrily, but still very calm.

“Hello?” I said, whispering; I surely didn’t want her to wake up because of some stupid person that decided to call right on that moment.

“Gee…” it was Mikey; I heard a sob on the other side of the line, and my eyes went wide when I understood my brother was actually crying. I had never heard him cry like that, before.

“Mikey, what’s up? Did anyone hurt you?” I whispered quickly, scared; I was damn worried about my brother, but that didn’t mean I had to wake up my Granny. She could sleep while I solved that problem.

“N-no, Gee… It’s Grandma” he choked, stopping for a while as I forrowed my eyebrow to no one at all, since my Granny was still asleep like the beautiful angel she was.

“Which Grandma, Mikey?” I asked, confused; I was pretty sure that our other Grandma had already died, so, he should be talking about the sleeping old lady in front of me, but why would he be crying?

“Grandma Elena, Gee…” Mikey said, taking a few breaths about talking again. “She’s dead, Gee” he said; I narrowed both my eyebrows, in both confusion and shock, and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see him.

“Mikey, I’m right in front of her, and she doesn’t look dead, to me… In fact, she’s sleeping” I denied, an involuntary chill go through my spine; she was asleep, wasn’t she?

“Gee… I’m so, so sorry!” Mikey cried onto the phone, as I put it on the table, again, and went to my Grandma. She couldn’t be dead. She simply couldn’t.

“Grandma?” I called out for her, my voice a little bit above a whisper; I called her again, a little louder. “Granny Elena?” I asked again, while shaking her fragile frame; it was then I noticed it. All the blood behind her head. “Granny? Granny, are you listening to me? GRANNY!” I screamed, hurriedly, falling onto my knees beside her. “You promised, Granny! I love you! You can’t leave me!” I screamed again, tears already falling. She couldn’t go away without me; I’d follow her wherever she went.

As I tuned back into reality, I understood I was breathless, on the middle of the school corridor, being pushed in all directions by the passing students; I could just be an invisible ghost, since they seemed to unnotice me there, just continuing their way towards fake problems and fake lives. I was remembering the many times I had tried to kill myself, after my Grandma died; Frankie had appeared to me in my dreams when I almost succeeded. He was my saving grace, and now he was fading away from me.

I start walking again, sobbing quite loudly and tears flying everywhere, still unnoticed; it wasn’t until I smack hard into someone that I get noticed, although it was not in the best of the ways.

“Can’t you fucking see where you’re walking?” I get asked by a growling Frank; he’s looking at my shirt, probably noticing who I was, and then moves his malicious gaze onto my face. It’s when he looks at my face that he notices my puffy bloodshot eyes and the tears streaming down onto my chin, my face being a mirror to my heart and soul; his gaze softens but, before he’s even able to ask anything, my brother comes out from behind me, looking at me horrified.

“Gee? What’s wrong?” Mikey asks, biting his lip in both pain and fear; he’s so afraid I’ll just talk him off, like every time he ever tries to ask me if something’s wrong, that he can’t even hide it anymore, it doesn’t matter how hard he tries. I can see right through your eyes, little brother; if only you could see through mine…

Mikey and Frank stand there, looking at me for some time, while I consider if I should tell them what’s up, or just shrug it away; I was so tired of hiding my feelings from my brother… And Frankie, my beautiful boy that was dying from cancer, had told me to get closer to real Frank, hadn’t he? What’s the best way to connect to anyone, than with your painful truth slipping through your mouth?

“You wanna know what’s wrong? You really do?” I asked, bitter sweetly; Mikey wasn’t the one to blame for everything that happened in my life, but I couldn’t control the anger that rose in my chest as I thought of all that had happened to me. I hadn’t been a bad boy; still I was the one who got all the suffering. As I looked at Mikey to continue my answer, my features smothered, just like my voice. “Grandma’s not here… That’s what’s wrong” I said, sobs erupting, yet again, from my throat, making me voice out hurtful noises as I ran past them, running away from everything I had ever known. All of that was too painful to me.

What’s the worst that I can say?