Sequel: Upwards ›
Frontwards
English rose.
Sunday 28th January, 2006.
I refused to get out of bed today. “The doctor told me to rest,” was my excuse as Frank attempted to get me downstairs for breakfast. Eventually he gave up and brought me pancakes covered in fruit and syrup. He’d cut the pancakes into love-heart shapes, which was so cute that I wanted to cry. But I didn’t, surprisingly. I just ate them and thanked him with a sticky, sugary kiss.
Frank succumbed to my demands that he stay in bed with me all day. Obviously. He’s such a pushover. So anyway we watched cartoons for the majority of the day. I drifted in and out of sleep. Frank brought me food at frequent intervals. I felt sorry for myself a lot. We cuddled. And before I even knew it, it was night time again and I was trying my very hardest to cry quietly so Frank wouldn’t realise that I was falling into depression.
Monday 29th January, 2006.
You hear a lot about post-natal depression. What you don’t hear so much about is depression during pregnancy. But it happens. It happened.
I couldn’t get out of bed today. I told Frank I was feeling sick and exhausted. Hormones, I said. He looked worried like he didn’t quite believe me, but he was needed in the basement for something. So he left me with a kiss and my promise that I’d call him if I needed him.
Once he’d left, I cried a lot. I cried for most of the day. I didn’t do much else.
All I could focus on was how alone I felt. I was surrounded by people but they didn’t even really know me. They tiptoed around me and humoured my every whim, and don’t get me wrong, that was all very nice but what I really needed was somebody to look me deep in the eyes and tell me to get a grip. I needed some tough love but I wasn’t going to get any here. I needed my best friend with me but she was a million miles away.
So I just cried. And then when I’d had enough of crying, I slept. And when I woke up, I started crying again.
Thursday 1st February, 2006.
This continued for several days. I couldn’t even muster the energy to write in my goddamn diary until now.
This is what changed: Alice caught me in bed at 3pm, sobbing my heart out. She let herself in the front door, came up the stairs, and found me in the middle of my breakdown.
“Hey,” she said softly, closing the bedroom door behind her. I looked up but I could hardly even see her because my vision was blurred with tears and not having my glasses on. She took a seat at the end of the bed.
I felt guilty for being caught crying. How pathetic, I know. But in a strange way, while I was hiding all these raging emotions from everybody else, I kind of felt in control. Like I had a little secret from everybody. They had no idea what I was doing whilst they were in the basement all day. Hell, even Kate didn’t know that I’d gone insane. It was only me. I didn’t need to burden anybody else. I sort of liked that, in a way. Like it was the last tiny little thing that I could keep a secret from everybody else. Call me crazy.
So when Alice busted me, I felt a little ashamed. Like I’d let her down, I guess. Because she thought that I was being strong. But I just couldn’t do that. I’m not like her. I can’t deal with these personal attacks.
“Oh, Daisy,” she whispered, and then she scooted closer to me and I found myself submitting to her hug. It was weird because she was so bony but it was also nice. It was a relief, I guess, to know that I had a friend. A female friend, who actually stood a chance of understanding just what in the world I was crying about.
“It’s so hard,” I sobbed into her jumper. “Why is it so difficult?”
She stroked my hair down my back and made soothing shushing noises because I’d started to weep pretty vocally now. It was all coming out. Fantastic. “It gets easier, babe,” she nodded, rubbing my back. “I promise.”
A small hiccup popped out of me and I shook my head and sniffed. My face was sore from all of the tears and the scratchy fabric of Alice’s jumper, so I sat back upright and wiped at my eyes with the backs of my hands. Alice was giving me a sad smile.
“I know what might cheer you up,” she smiled.
I didn’t believe her to be honest. I didn’t believe that whatever it was she had in store for me would make me feel any better about my predicament. But I underestimated her.
From her bag she withdrew a shiny new copy of Alternative Press. My Chemical Romance were the cover stars. I put on my glasses, took the magazine from her and studied the picture for a moment. Frank was on the end and I daresay it was the most perfect he had ever looked. I guess he had the make-up to thank for that.
Still, I was incredibly nervous as I flicked through the pages to find the interview that I was “hardly even mentioned” in. My hands were shaking so much that the pages began to crease. The whole time, Alice was observing me with this little half-smile on her delicate face.
They had a double-spread. There was a central picture of the whole band, along with little satellite pictures of each member (Frank once again looked insanely hot) as well as one of Mikey and Alice looking adorable, and one of Frank and I that I had never even seen before. I brought the pages closer to my face to inspect, and I couldn’t help but smile as realisation dawned. It was taken when we went for our fancy meal a couple of weeks ago, the night they announced their new album deal. And I vaguely remembered it being taken on somebody’s phone while we weren’t looking. It was right after dessert, and I was feeling so full and sleepy that I’d rested my head on Frank’s shoulder. We weren’t looking at the camera but we were smiling and we looked like any other couple who were in love. It was possibly my favourite photo in the whole world.
“Read this part,” Alice instructed me, her voice high-pitched and excited as she pointed towards the end of the article.
I followed her finger with my gaze.
'Over the past week, fan-led websites have been in uproar over the arrival of rhythm guitarist Frank Iero’s latest girlfriend. Rumors were started last weekend regarding a new lady in the guitarist’s life, after an anonymous source posted a photograph online of Daisy Montague, a British accountant who it’s been claimed is currently carrying his child. But is it true?
“She’s just a beautiful person,” Frank beams as we question him about the gossip. “I can confirm that yes, she is my girlfriend and yes, we are expecting a baby at the end of July.”
It is believed that Frank met Daisy while touring in the UK last year, whilst he was still engaged to former lover Saskia Williams. “We fell in love,” he shrugs. “I mean, what do you do when you meet the love of your life but you’re already engaged to someone else? The circumstances weren’t ideal but I don’t regret a single thing.”
Though it’s clear he’s certainly smitten, Iero’s bandmates don’t hesitate to defend him on the matter. “They’re ridiculously perfect together,” the frontman interjects with a roll of the eyes. “It’s sickening.”
While Iero is remaining quiet on the fine details of his blossoming relationship, a number of fans are certainly letting their opinion be heard. Already Daisy has countless Google hits; several blogs are dedicated to voicing hatred towards her. Sadly, this is not the first time the band has had to deal with this kind of backlash: Mikey’s long-term girlfriend Alice Byrne has already witnessed first-hand just how cruel a place the internet can be after a number of death threats.
“It’s really difficult for Daisy to get her head around it all,” Frank tells us solemnly. “She’s not used to this sort of recognition and suddenly she’s been catapulted into this crazy universe where absolute strangers are threatening her. It’s extremely hurtful.”
Since the interview has taken place, the band’s PR have reported a physical attack on Daisy outside a grocery store as several female fans cornered her and pushed her to the ground. So does this English rose (pictured above, with Iero) really deserve this abuse from people who claim to be fans of My Chemical Romance? The stress would be enough even if she weren’t currently 3 months pregnant (both mother and baby are healthy at time of press) but it’s disgusting that somebody would treat a woman carrying a child with such little respect.'
I looked up at Alice with fresh tears in my eyes. Happy ones, this time. I was smiling. I couldn’t not smile. Some faith in the world had been restored. It seemed that somebody was on my side. Somebody not in this house.
“Oh Jesus, don’t start crying again,” she said, but she was laughing and she pulled me into another hug. “You see,” she said into my hair, “it’s not all so bad.”
I nodded. “Thanks,” I said sincerely, because I owed her a lot.
She grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “That’s what I’m here for. Now shall we go show the guys how pretty they look in their make-up?”
I chuckled and nodded and then we made our way down to the basement. I was still in my pyjamas and I hadn’t brushed my hair in a couple of days. Fuck it.
To be honest, the guys weren’t even surprised to see us. We were greeted with kisses from our respective boyfriends, and smiles from everybody else around the table.
“We’re just finalising some lyrics,” Frank told me. “But we were about to take a break anyways. Right guys?”
The general response was nodding and so I took the spare seat and Alice perched on Mikey’s lap. She slapped the magazine down on the table. It was looking considerably rougher around the edges than it had 20 minutes ago thanks to my shaky hold. Oh well.
As everybody skimmed through, I smiled at the picture of Frank and I. And also at the fact that I’d been referred to as an ‘English rose’. I don’t think I’ve ever been called an English rose before. It’s quite flattering, actually. I like the sound of it. Although it does contrast slightly with the other floral theme of my name. But nevermind that.
“You see,” Frank grinned, kissing my cheek. “Hardly even mentioned.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “Thanks for sticking up for me, you guys,” I said shyly.
Ray smiled. “No problem, kid.”
Gerard cocked his head. “You’re our friend, too, Daisy,” he said in what was probably the most sincere tone I’d ever heard him use. “Don’t forget that.”
And just like that I was trying not to cry again. Let me tell you, it’s a good damn job I keep myself hydrated or I’d just shrivel into nothing like a raisin.
I refused to get out of bed today. “The doctor told me to rest,” was my excuse as Frank attempted to get me downstairs for breakfast. Eventually he gave up and brought me pancakes covered in fruit and syrup. He’d cut the pancakes into love-heart shapes, which was so cute that I wanted to cry. But I didn’t, surprisingly. I just ate them and thanked him with a sticky, sugary kiss.
Frank succumbed to my demands that he stay in bed with me all day. Obviously. He’s such a pushover. So anyway we watched cartoons for the majority of the day. I drifted in and out of sleep. Frank brought me food at frequent intervals. I felt sorry for myself a lot. We cuddled. And before I even knew it, it was night time again and I was trying my very hardest to cry quietly so Frank wouldn’t realise that I was falling into depression.
Monday 29th January, 2006.
You hear a lot about post-natal depression. What you don’t hear so much about is depression during pregnancy. But it happens. It happened.
I couldn’t get out of bed today. I told Frank I was feeling sick and exhausted. Hormones, I said. He looked worried like he didn’t quite believe me, but he was needed in the basement for something. So he left me with a kiss and my promise that I’d call him if I needed him.
Once he’d left, I cried a lot. I cried for most of the day. I didn’t do much else.
All I could focus on was how alone I felt. I was surrounded by people but they didn’t even really know me. They tiptoed around me and humoured my every whim, and don’t get me wrong, that was all very nice but what I really needed was somebody to look me deep in the eyes and tell me to get a grip. I needed some tough love but I wasn’t going to get any here. I needed my best friend with me but she was a million miles away.
So I just cried. And then when I’d had enough of crying, I slept. And when I woke up, I started crying again.
Thursday 1st February, 2006.
This continued for several days. I couldn’t even muster the energy to write in my goddamn diary until now.
This is what changed: Alice caught me in bed at 3pm, sobbing my heart out. She let herself in the front door, came up the stairs, and found me in the middle of my breakdown.
“Hey,” she said softly, closing the bedroom door behind her. I looked up but I could hardly even see her because my vision was blurred with tears and not having my glasses on. She took a seat at the end of the bed.
I felt guilty for being caught crying. How pathetic, I know. But in a strange way, while I was hiding all these raging emotions from everybody else, I kind of felt in control. Like I had a little secret from everybody. They had no idea what I was doing whilst they were in the basement all day. Hell, even Kate didn’t know that I’d gone insane. It was only me. I didn’t need to burden anybody else. I sort of liked that, in a way. Like it was the last tiny little thing that I could keep a secret from everybody else. Call me crazy.
So when Alice busted me, I felt a little ashamed. Like I’d let her down, I guess. Because she thought that I was being strong. But I just couldn’t do that. I’m not like her. I can’t deal with these personal attacks.
“Oh, Daisy,” she whispered, and then she scooted closer to me and I found myself submitting to her hug. It was weird because she was so bony but it was also nice. It was a relief, I guess, to know that I had a friend. A female friend, who actually stood a chance of understanding just what in the world I was crying about.
“It’s so hard,” I sobbed into her jumper. “Why is it so difficult?”
She stroked my hair down my back and made soothing shushing noises because I’d started to weep pretty vocally now. It was all coming out. Fantastic. “It gets easier, babe,” she nodded, rubbing my back. “I promise.”
A small hiccup popped out of me and I shook my head and sniffed. My face was sore from all of the tears and the scratchy fabric of Alice’s jumper, so I sat back upright and wiped at my eyes with the backs of my hands. Alice was giving me a sad smile.
“I know what might cheer you up,” she smiled.
I didn’t believe her to be honest. I didn’t believe that whatever it was she had in store for me would make me feel any better about my predicament. But I underestimated her.
From her bag she withdrew a shiny new copy of Alternative Press. My Chemical Romance were the cover stars. I put on my glasses, took the magazine from her and studied the picture for a moment. Frank was on the end and I daresay it was the most perfect he had ever looked. I guess he had the make-up to thank for that.
Still, I was incredibly nervous as I flicked through the pages to find the interview that I was “hardly even mentioned” in. My hands were shaking so much that the pages began to crease. The whole time, Alice was observing me with this little half-smile on her delicate face.
They had a double-spread. There was a central picture of the whole band, along with little satellite pictures of each member (Frank once again looked insanely hot) as well as one of Mikey and Alice looking adorable, and one of Frank and I that I had never even seen before. I brought the pages closer to my face to inspect, and I couldn’t help but smile as realisation dawned. It was taken when we went for our fancy meal a couple of weeks ago, the night they announced their new album deal. And I vaguely remembered it being taken on somebody’s phone while we weren’t looking. It was right after dessert, and I was feeling so full and sleepy that I’d rested my head on Frank’s shoulder. We weren’t looking at the camera but we were smiling and we looked like any other couple who were in love. It was possibly my favourite photo in the whole world.
“Read this part,” Alice instructed me, her voice high-pitched and excited as she pointed towards the end of the article.
I followed her finger with my gaze.
'Over the past week, fan-led websites have been in uproar over the arrival of rhythm guitarist Frank Iero’s latest girlfriend. Rumors were started last weekend regarding a new lady in the guitarist’s life, after an anonymous source posted a photograph online of Daisy Montague, a British accountant who it’s been claimed is currently carrying his child. But is it true?
“She’s just a beautiful person,” Frank beams as we question him about the gossip. “I can confirm that yes, she is my girlfriend and yes, we are expecting a baby at the end of July.”
It is believed that Frank met Daisy while touring in the UK last year, whilst he was still engaged to former lover Saskia Williams. “We fell in love,” he shrugs. “I mean, what do you do when you meet the love of your life but you’re already engaged to someone else? The circumstances weren’t ideal but I don’t regret a single thing.”
Though it’s clear he’s certainly smitten, Iero’s bandmates don’t hesitate to defend him on the matter. “They’re ridiculously perfect together,” the frontman interjects with a roll of the eyes. “It’s sickening.”
While Iero is remaining quiet on the fine details of his blossoming relationship, a number of fans are certainly letting their opinion be heard. Already Daisy has countless Google hits; several blogs are dedicated to voicing hatred towards her. Sadly, this is not the first time the band has had to deal with this kind of backlash: Mikey’s long-term girlfriend Alice Byrne has already witnessed first-hand just how cruel a place the internet can be after a number of death threats.
“It’s really difficult for Daisy to get her head around it all,” Frank tells us solemnly. “She’s not used to this sort of recognition and suddenly she’s been catapulted into this crazy universe where absolute strangers are threatening her. It’s extremely hurtful.”
Since the interview has taken place, the band’s PR have reported a physical attack on Daisy outside a grocery store as several female fans cornered her and pushed her to the ground. So does this English rose (pictured above, with Iero) really deserve this abuse from people who claim to be fans of My Chemical Romance? The stress would be enough even if she weren’t currently 3 months pregnant (both mother and baby are healthy at time of press) but it’s disgusting that somebody would treat a woman carrying a child with such little respect.'
I looked up at Alice with fresh tears in my eyes. Happy ones, this time. I was smiling. I couldn’t not smile. Some faith in the world had been restored. It seemed that somebody was on my side. Somebody not in this house.
“Oh Jesus, don’t start crying again,” she said, but she was laughing and she pulled me into another hug. “You see,” she said into my hair, “it’s not all so bad.”
I nodded. “Thanks,” I said sincerely, because I owed her a lot.
She grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “That’s what I’m here for. Now shall we go show the guys how pretty they look in their make-up?”
I chuckled and nodded and then we made our way down to the basement. I was still in my pyjamas and I hadn’t brushed my hair in a couple of days. Fuck it.
To be honest, the guys weren’t even surprised to see us. We were greeted with kisses from our respective boyfriends, and smiles from everybody else around the table.
“We’re just finalising some lyrics,” Frank told me. “But we were about to take a break anyways. Right guys?”
The general response was nodding and so I took the spare seat and Alice perched on Mikey’s lap. She slapped the magazine down on the table. It was looking considerably rougher around the edges than it had 20 minutes ago thanks to my shaky hold. Oh well.
As everybody skimmed through, I smiled at the picture of Frank and I. And also at the fact that I’d been referred to as an ‘English rose’. I don’t think I’ve ever been called an English rose before. It’s quite flattering, actually. I like the sound of it. Although it does contrast slightly with the other floral theme of my name. But nevermind that.
“You see,” Frank grinned, kissing my cheek. “Hardly even mentioned.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “Thanks for sticking up for me, you guys,” I said shyly.
Ray smiled. “No problem, kid.”
Gerard cocked his head. “You’re our friend, too, Daisy,” he said in what was probably the most sincere tone I’d ever heard him use. “Don’t forget that.”
And just like that I was trying not to cry again. Let me tell you, it’s a good damn job I keep myself hydrated or I’d just shrivel into nothing like a raisin.