Sequel: Upwards ›
Frontwards
Descent.
Friday, November 11th, 2005
It hurt like hell, but what did you expect? I knew what I had got myself into and I knew that it would never end with a fist bump and a “later, dude.” I knew that it would be emotional but there was still nothing I could have done to prepare myself for it.
If real life was like the movies, we’d have said goodbye at the gates and I’d have watched his plane take off and soar high high high above and away from me forever, and I’d have shed a tear but there would be a smile on my face because I knew I would never be as happy again as the past week had made me. Alas, life is not a movie, and we had to part in the middle of the terminal, which was not ideal. With all of their equipment and various members of crew and their aviator sunglasses and leather jackets and other such rockstar basics, the guys were attracting enough attention as it is without having an hysterical blubbering woman hanging off of one of them, but such is life.
First I said goodbye to Gerard, giving him a quick hug, which I think he appreciated, knowing that it is a big deal for me to give out hugs. “Thanks for yesterday,” I said quietly as we parted. He gave me a crooked smile. I’m not sure he thought twice about our little chat at band practice but it definitely meant a lot to me.
Then I moved onto Mikey, avoiding hugs as I know he’s not massive on them either. “Bye, Mikey,” I smiled, and to my surprised he bent down to give me a very brief, very awkward hug which kind of made me want to cry because he was so gawky and cute. I let out a small laugh of emotion instead, before moving onto Ray, and then Bob, and then finally I turned to Frank. He was giving me a very sad smile and I gave him an equally sad smile in return.
Frank and I left the group to be alone for a few minutes. We took a seat on some uncomfortable blue nylon chairs which made my legs itch through my tights but I didn’t complain. For a long time we were silent, just holding hands and staring down at the floor.
“We can talk on the phone,” he eventually offered. His voice was low.
I nodded weakly, still not bringing myself to meet his eyes. “And we can email,” I choked.
“We can write letters.”
I don’t believe either of us really meant any of it. As far as I was concerned, this was goodbye. And then they were announcing Frank’s flight. “Final check-in call for all passengers on flight TXC648 to Newark. All remaining passengers on this flight please proceed to check-in desk 14.” Stupid tannoy bitch.
“Well,” Frank sighed, “I guess that’s me.” He squeezed his fingers around mine and then I looked up at him and met his hazel eyes and I fell apart. Frank put his arm around me and I nuzzled into his neck and sobbed my little heart out. Fuck the final check in call. Fuck the people staring at me like I was insane. Fuck Frank’s bandmates calling him. Fuck everything. All I cared about was Frank, and he was leaving. “Oh, Daisy,” he kept saying, stroking my hair and sighing and kissing my forehead. “Oh Daisy.” I could tell from his voice that he was crying, too. It sounds pathetic, I know, but it felt like my world was ending. So much can change in a week. If you had told me seven days ago that I’d be crying over a rockstar, I’d have laughed in your face. Such is life.
Eventually, after I don’t even know how long, I managed to pull myself together and sit up again, sniffing and wiping my eyes. The state I must have been in eludes me. I don’t even want to think about it. I can just imagine the puffy red eyes, the mascara stained cheeks, a crooked smile and my hair plastered to my face with tears. But Frank didn’t care. He kissed me anyway. A proper movie goodbye kiss. And then we were on our feet.
“FINAL check-in call for flight TXC648 to Newark...” Fuck off. I could see Tony in the distance making rapid arm gestures at Frank. Fuck off.
“Bye, Frank,” I whispered.
His rough fingertips grazed my cheeks one last time. “Goodbye, Daisy,” he replied, his voice faltering. “I’ll never forget you.”
And then he was gone.
And I was alone again, in Terminal Four.
Saturday, November 12th, 2005
Is it really better to have loved and lost that to have never loved at all? I am sitting on the sofa with a bottle of wine and a tub of Phish Food and I am not so sure. Just eat through the tears, Daisy. What a great idea. Nobody will want you then.
I miss him and I want him back. How pathetic.
What’s the point in writing in this stupid diary when the only thing I do is sit around feeling sorry for myself? Perhaps I will take a break for a while to give me a chance to sort my head out. As it is I just feeling like crying all the time. Writing it down doesn’t seem to be helping, either. Where is stupid Kate when I need her? Working. Argh. If only I had other friends.
In a bid of desperation I sent a drunken email to Frank. I knew from the off that it was a terrible idea but once it had rooted into my mind there was only one way I was going to shake it off.
To: frank-iero@mcr.reprise.com
From: daisymontague@hotmail.com
Subject: Hi
Frank,
I know it’s only been two days but I was just wondering how you are and everything. I mean I assume you got back okay otherwise I’d have probably heard about a plane crash on the news involving the rock band My Chemical Romance, right? Probably. Oh what am I talking about? It’s all bullshit Frank and I miss you. I don’t even care how sad it sounds or how drunk I am right now because it’s all true true true. Why did you have to sit in my fucking seat, you bastard? This is all your fault that I’m hurting and crying and spilling wine everywhere. I was perfectly content before you. Why couldn’t you have just gotten on the right train? It’s not that fucking complicated, you prick.
I love you Frank Iero. I’m sorry.
Yours eternally,
Daisy Montague x
Send. Two minutes of silent contemplation.
“FUCK.” I slammed the lid of my laptop shut and closed my eyes. The true magnitude of the mistake I had made sending that email hit me two minutes too late. I’d give anything to crawl into the interweb and chase the email down and destroy it with a laser or a samurai sword but there’s nothing I can do about it now. It’s in the airwaves and it’s on its way to New Jersey. Fan-fucking-tastic. He’s going to think I’m a stalker freak. Wonderful.
Daisy, what have you done?!
Tuesday, November 15th, 2005
I answered the door in my zebra-print pyjama shorts and a big grey hoodie I stole from Kate’s room. My hair was in the messiest bun you can imagine, my fringe scraped back from my face with a bow headband, my eyes were red and puffy and there were ice-cream stains down the front of my chest.
The Chinese delivery guy looked me over very briefly and I could see him silently judging me. Fucking bastard. No tips for you.
Friday, November 18th, 2005
I would kill for some Chunky Monkey right now. Might call Kate and ask her to pick some up for me on her way home. No energy to make it to the shops. Another week at work has drained me.
Wednesday, November 30th, 2005
Getting lazy with this diary. Bradley from work asked me out today and then he cupped my ass. I told him that I already have a boyfriend and he started to ask annoying questions like “what’s his name?” and “what does he do?” and “how come you never mentioned him before?”
Fuck off Bradley because it’s fuck all business of yours.
I think Kate is finally starting to worry. When she comes home after an evening shift I’m normally watching rom-coms in my pyjamas and crying and throwing chocolates at the TV. It’s all fake. Where is my happily ever after? Fuck you Jennifer Aniston. Maybe if I was thin and beautiful and blonde Frank would have stayed with me instead of fucking off to America. Shut up.
Saturday, December 24th, 2005
All I want for Christmas is Frank Iero.
Sunday, December 25th, 2005
Started the day puking into my bin. Brilliant. Merry fucking Christmas.
“Are you okay, Diz?” Kate asked in a soft voice from behind me as I spat out the remnants of my stomach.
“Peachy,” I replied, allowing myself to fall back onto my ass from my crouching position. I leant my back against the wall and stared at the floor. She came and sat beside me and rubbed my shoulder. It was quite nice actually.
I never thought heartbreak would last this long, if I’m honest. It’s been over a month and it still doesn’t hurt any less. I’ve been apart from him for five times longer than I knew him but the pain is unbearable. I guess that’s love for you.
Surprisingly, I never did get a reply from my coherent and heartfelt email. To be honest, I’d have probably judged him if he had replied because I’m sure I sounded nothing but desperate, deluded and quite, quite insane. To reply would have made him every bit as crazy as me, I suppose.
Christmas dinner with Kate’s parents was excruciating. I got the feeling they just wanted to reach across the table and slap some sense into me because I was being a depressive bitch. The four of us were silent as we ate and then I fell asleep watching the Wizard of Oz. Christmas has never really been a big deal for me since my dad died. Most years my mother wouldn’t even bother getting a tree. What’s the point, she would say, and then down another sherry. Santa never came. Carolers just started to annoy me because they are so smug and self-righteous and how dare they sing about peace on Earth and goodwill to all men when there are so many problems with this world? Fuck Christmas. Bah humbug.
It hurt like hell, but what did you expect? I knew what I had got myself into and I knew that it would never end with a fist bump and a “later, dude.” I knew that it would be emotional but there was still nothing I could have done to prepare myself for it.
If real life was like the movies, we’d have said goodbye at the gates and I’d have watched his plane take off and soar high high high above and away from me forever, and I’d have shed a tear but there would be a smile on my face because I knew I would never be as happy again as the past week had made me. Alas, life is not a movie, and we had to part in the middle of the terminal, which was not ideal. With all of their equipment and various members of crew and their aviator sunglasses and leather jackets and other such rockstar basics, the guys were attracting enough attention as it is without having an hysterical blubbering woman hanging off of one of them, but such is life.
First I said goodbye to Gerard, giving him a quick hug, which I think he appreciated, knowing that it is a big deal for me to give out hugs. “Thanks for yesterday,” I said quietly as we parted. He gave me a crooked smile. I’m not sure he thought twice about our little chat at band practice but it definitely meant a lot to me.
Then I moved onto Mikey, avoiding hugs as I know he’s not massive on them either. “Bye, Mikey,” I smiled, and to my surprised he bent down to give me a very brief, very awkward hug which kind of made me want to cry because he was so gawky and cute. I let out a small laugh of emotion instead, before moving onto Ray, and then Bob, and then finally I turned to Frank. He was giving me a very sad smile and I gave him an equally sad smile in return.
Frank and I left the group to be alone for a few minutes. We took a seat on some uncomfortable blue nylon chairs which made my legs itch through my tights but I didn’t complain. For a long time we were silent, just holding hands and staring down at the floor.
“We can talk on the phone,” he eventually offered. His voice was low.
I nodded weakly, still not bringing myself to meet his eyes. “And we can email,” I choked.
“We can write letters.”
I don’t believe either of us really meant any of it. As far as I was concerned, this was goodbye. And then they were announcing Frank’s flight. “Final check-in call for all passengers on flight TXC648 to Newark. All remaining passengers on this flight please proceed to check-in desk 14.” Stupid tannoy bitch.
“Well,” Frank sighed, “I guess that’s me.” He squeezed his fingers around mine and then I looked up at him and met his hazel eyes and I fell apart. Frank put his arm around me and I nuzzled into his neck and sobbed my little heart out. Fuck the final check in call. Fuck the people staring at me like I was insane. Fuck Frank’s bandmates calling him. Fuck everything. All I cared about was Frank, and he was leaving. “Oh, Daisy,” he kept saying, stroking my hair and sighing and kissing my forehead. “Oh Daisy.” I could tell from his voice that he was crying, too. It sounds pathetic, I know, but it felt like my world was ending. So much can change in a week. If you had told me seven days ago that I’d be crying over a rockstar, I’d have laughed in your face. Such is life.
Eventually, after I don’t even know how long, I managed to pull myself together and sit up again, sniffing and wiping my eyes. The state I must have been in eludes me. I don’t even want to think about it. I can just imagine the puffy red eyes, the mascara stained cheeks, a crooked smile and my hair plastered to my face with tears. But Frank didn’t care. He kissed me anyway. A proper movie goodbye kiss. And then we were on our feet.
“FINAL check-in call for flight TXC648 to Newark...” Fuck off. I could see Tony in the distance making rapid arm gestures at Frank. Fuck off.
“Bye, Frank,” I whispered.
His rough fingertips grazed my cheeks one last time. “Goodbye, Daisy,” he replied, his voice faltering. “I’ll never forget you.”
And then he was gone.
And I was alone again, in Terminal Four.
Saturday, November 12th, 2005
Is it really better to have loved and lost that to have never loved at all? I am sitting on the sofa with a bottle of wine and a tub of Phish Food and I am not so sure. Just eat through the tears, Daisy. What a great idea. Nobody will want you then.
I miss him and I want him back. How pathetic.
What’s the point in writing in this stupid diary when the only thing I do is sit around feeling sorry for myself? Perhaps I will take a break for a while to give me a chance to sort my head out. As it is I just feeling like crying all the time. Writing it down doesn’t seem to be helping, either. Where is stupid Kate when I need her? Working. Argh. If only I had other friends.
In a bid of desperation I sent a drunken email to Frank. I knew from the off that it was a terrible idea but once it had rooted into my mind there was only one way I was going to shake it off.
To: frank-iero@mcr.reprise.com
From: daisymontague@hotmail.com
Subject: Hi
Frank,
I know it’s only been two days but I was just wondering how you are and everything. I mean I assume you got back okay otherwise I’d have probably heard about a plane crash on the news involving the rock band My Chemical Romance, right? Probably. Oh what am I talking about? It’s all bullshit Frank and I miss you. I don’t even care how sad it sounds or how drunk I am right now because it’s all true true true. Why did you have to sit in my fucking seat, you bastard? This is all your fault that I’m hurting and crying and spilling wine everywhere. I was perfectly content before you. Why couldn’t you have just gotten on the right train? It’s not that fucking complicated, you prick.
I love you Frank Iero. I’m sorry.
Yours eternally,
Daisy Montague x
Send. Two minutes of silent contemplation.
“FUCK.” I slammed the lid of my laptop shut and closed my eyes. The true magnitude of the mistake I had made sending that email hit me two minutes too late. I’d give anything to crawl into the interweb and chase the email down and destroy it with a laser or a samurai sword but there’s nothing I can do about it now. It’s in the airwaves and it’s on its way to New Jersey. Fan-fucking-tastic. He’s going to think I’m a stalker freak. Wonderful.
Daisy, what have you done?!
Tuesday, November 15th, 2005
I answered the door in my zebra-print pyjama shorts and a big grey hoodie I stole from Kate’s room. My hair was in the messiest bun you can imagine, my fringe scraped back from my face with a bow headband, my eyes were red and puffy and there were ice-cream stains down the front of my chest.
The Chinese delivery guy looked me over very briefly and I could see him silently judging me. Fucking bastard. No tips for you.
Friday, November 18th, 2005
I would kill for some Chunky Monkey right now. Might call Kate and ask her to pick some up for me on her way home. No energy to make it to the shops. Another week at work has drained me.
Wednesday, November 30th, 2005
Getting lazy with this diary. Bradley from work asked me out today and then he cupped my ass. I told him that I already have a boyfriend and he started to ask annoying questions like “what’s his name?” and “what does he do?” and “how come you never mentioned him before?”
Fuck off Bradley because it’s fuck all business of yours.
I think Kate is finally starting to worry. When she comes home after an evening shift I’m normally watching rom-coms in my pyjamas and crying and throwing chocolates at the TV. It’s all fake. Where is my happily ever after? Fuck you Jennifer Aniston. Maybe if I was thin and beautiful and blonde Frank would have stayed with me instead of fucking off to America. Shut up.
Saturday, December 24th, 2005
All I want for Christmas is Frank Iero.
Sunday, December 25th, 2005
Started the day puking into my bin. Brilliant. Merry fucking Christmas.
“Are you okay, Diz?” Kate asked in a soft voice from behind me as I spat out the remnants of my stomach.
“Peachy,” I replied, allowing myself to fall back onto my ass from my crouching position. I leant my back against the wall and stared at the floor. She came and sat beside me and rubbed my shoulder. It was quite nice actually.
I never thought heartbreak would last this long, if I’m honest. It’s been over a month and it still doesn’t hurt any less. I’ve been apart from him for five times longer than I knew him but the pain is unbearable. I guess that’s love for you.
Surprisingly, I never did get a reply from my coherent and heartfelt email. To be honest, I’d have probably judged him if he had replied because I’m sure I sounded nothing but desperate, deluded and quite, quite insane. To reply would have made him every bit as crazy as me, I suppose.
Christmas dinner with Kate’s parents was excruciating. I got the feeling they just wanted to reach across the table and slap some sense into me because I was being a depressive bitch. The four of us were silent as we ate and then I fell asleep watching the Wizard of Oz. Christmas has never really been a big deal for me since my dad died. Most years my mother wouldn’t even bother getting a tree. What’s the point, she would say, and then down another sherry. Santa never came. Carolers just started to annoy me because they are so smug and self-righteous and how dare they sing about peace on Earth and goodwill to all men when there are so many problems with this world? Fuck Christmas. Bah humbug.