Love Is for the Sane

The sky was black. But then again, it usually is at night. The only difference was the stars. It wasn’t that they were especially large or bright. It was that instead of a handful of lonely stars, each miles away, there were millions of stars smiling – no, grinning down at the world. No lonely stars, every one of them has a friend, a lover, a family member, someone to hold onto.

Why did you have to be so damn selfish? You had the best fucking friend anyone could ask for, and you had to screw it up. And for what? To screw around with your ex-girlfriend? And now, once you get over it, he’s through with your shit.

We could have stayed friends from the start, and then maybe I wouldn’t have loved him.

No, I would have either way. But at least he would still be able to look at me without having to turn away. Disgust, I can just imagine it on his face. But he’s too polite, too considerate to let me see it.

At least show me that, and I’ll leave you alone. If you say you want me to get away, I will, but only for you.

Stupid stars, reminding me of him. Leaning back, I finally see the full extent of the stars.

Gorgeous, bright, you’d never want to look away. It’s the kind of sight that made you wonder why you gave a damn about anything else. You feel like you were fine sitting there, never mind that you may waste away, you need this. What a horrifying thought, what a horrible view.

Like Frank. I would stare to the point of seeming to glare. He was that horrifyingly perfect view. I could sit there, forever, just looking at him. Loving him with my eyes.

Can’t you feel me? Can’t you feel me caressing your face, wrapping myself around you like a blanket, protecting you from those who don’t deserve you?

I don’t deserve you. I used you, and yet you never said a thing. You could have easily said no, that you wanted to keep me, but you agreed. To help her. But why, and for what? To help a friend. You loved me. But what of her? Could you tell that she really was so lost?

Half a fucking year. I had to spend time with her, re-associate with her. Talk her down from her insanity. I realized she wasn’t with the rest of us about a week into our ‘relationship.’ She always needed me to be near, she would start convulsing if I wasn’t. She didn’t seem to like anyone, and was always shivering, as if she was cold. They were withdrawal symptoms. She had taken up a cocktail of drugs, and developed bipolar disorder.

Half a year. Six months of coaxing her to tell me what was wrong, and slowly finding each horror bit by bit. I remember how it was before I found out about the bipolar disorder. For three weeks, she’d be happy and was always giving me ideas for songs, merchandise, everything. She seemed strangely happy for someone developing a relationship with an ex. And then, out of nowhere, she became depressed. As time went on, I recognized the manic episodes she kept going through.

Five months in, she was progressing, stopped taking as many drugs and took medication for her disorder. Thinking she was better, I told her the reasoning behind my quick agreement to her request of starting over again. She seemed to take it well enough, and though she was teary-eyed she told me she was thankful I still cared enough to be concerned about her.

Three weeks after, I caught her abusing the pills. She was getting high again. I had been so angry I had smacked her. She started sobbing and apologizing over and over. She agreed to go to rehab.

One week later, I was back with the band again, right fucking on tour. Not missing a beat, I threw myself into it, trying to forget the ordeals I had been going through in the past six months.

The only problem was that when I came back, I had to face another painful memory. Because that was all he really was anymore; a memory.

The relationship had to end, in order to save Jessica’s life, but when that happened, it felt like I had lost my own life. I had lost Frank. And I had been so consumed with saving her; I barely spoke to him at all. After the first few awkward conversations, we had given up. Coming back to the band, to tour with them, with Frank, was by far the most uncomfortable situation ever. Only a few days into it, and the tension was slowly suffocating everyone.

I missed how we were. How the band was. Like a big fucking family. And because of one stupid thing, I screwed it over. Everyone’s uncomfortable, and Ray, Bob and Mikey have to take turns telling Frank and I that everything is okay. That we’ll get along again.

But we won’t. Because I’m afraid. I can’t go to Frank and apologize. Because I am so afraid that if I do, he’ll have the opportunity to leave me. And I can’t offer myself like that. I can’t sacrifice myself like that, because I am selfish.

I always have been, and I always will be.