Sweet Home... Minnesota?

I’m trying to forget that the past few days ever happened. It’s not working. I remember every tiny detail of it. Every single second. Every footstep, every word, and every messed up emotion.

I remember the guilt when I kissed Frank. I remember the look in his eyes when I tried to drive away. He had been so angry at me. He had every right to be. I messed it up. I messed everything up. He was my friend and I messed that up. I have a habit of doing the worst possible thing that the situation permits. I hate that I’m always doing that, but who would I be if I weren’t ruining everything?

I remember hearing Mikey’s voice in the texts on my phone. I couldn’t even hear him, it was just words, but I heard him. I heard the desperation, and the fear, and it made me hate myself a million time more than I already did.

I remember the look on his face when I walked into the house like he was shrugging the weight of the world away. He also kind of wanted to punch me in the face. That would have been warranted.

I stare at my feet on the end of the couch, trying to pull myself away from the constant replay of events in my mind. I‘m not very good at it.

I only look up when I hear someone walking down the stairs. I look up to see Mikey stepping slowly, dresses smartly a little too early in the morning. It’s not early, but I didn’t get any sleep, so I feel like it is. I haven’t seen Pete or Mikey since the sun came out, which is unlike them. I’m supposed to be the vampire, not them.

Mikey walks over to the counter, and grabs his keys from the ugly, aging laminate. He then turns to me, and looks me over with an unreadable expression, before he breathes in long and hard.

Mikey says looking sad and tired, “Come on, Gerard. Get your coat we’re going on a road trip.”

“A what? Why? Where?”

Mikey repeats, “A road trip. Because I said so. To a doctor.”

“Why though?”

“Honestly?”

I groan, and answer sarcastically, “no lie to me.”

“It’s been too long, Gee. You’ve been sad too long, and you’re always being a fucking pessimist about everything.”

“So?”

“Well Gerard, Pete went through this too, and you know what that turned out to be,” Mikey says critically.

“You think I’m depressed?” It’s not so much a question as it is a statement.

“I think it’s a possibility. I’m not willing to risk what happens if you are, and don’t get help for it.”

“Why would uh,” I clear my throat, “Why would you think that?”

“If you could only see yourself, Gerard,” Mikey says shaking his head, “I’m really worried about you. I don’t want you to go through what happened last time.”

“Last time was different,” I say.

“Yeah you’re right, it was different. Because this time everything is ten times worse.”

I frown, “but why do I need help? I’m fine.”

“No you’re fucking not,” he replies, “I have to force you to eat food half the time, and that scares me shitless, okay? You should eat.”

“I have been eating!”

Mikey groans, “yeah, but not as much as you really should. You’re also just look miserable whenever I look at you nowadays, and it’s really getting old. It’s not okay for you to always be sad. That’s not normal, Gerard. Maybe in variety it wouldn’t be something to bad an eyelash at, but the fact that you haven’t fucking smiled in forever is scary. The only time you ever even laugh anymore is when Frank’s around, and that scares me even more, because you’re adamant of your heterosexuality.”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” I reply, looking down.

“I can see that, but you’re gonna have to talk to someone. Gerard, I don’t know if you’re going through a sexuality crisis, if you’re still hung up over that girl, or if you’re just in a bad place, but it’s not okay anymore. There’s a grace period where it’s okay to be sad and hung up on a breakup, but that period has long since passed. I don’t want to risk you doing something bad to yourself again,” Mikey says.

“It was one time. The other night was a mistake.”

“It could happen again, and if you threw away that many years sober just to start up again then I will never forgive you. Never.”

I groan, “But Frank-”

“Yeah, what happened sucks. You came onto him, and he pushed you away, sorry. What do you want me to say? Do you want the truth?”

“The truth would be nice,” I reply.

“Well the truth is that Frank absolutely did the right thing. I want to give him a high five and a pat on the back, because he didn’t take advantage of the thought-he-was-straight-guy-who’s-reevaluating-his-sexuality. If he had, I’d have kicked him in the fucking balls. Gerard, you’re vulnerable as all hell right now, and if he had prayed on that, he wouldn’t be as good a person as I know him to be. Maybe if you still like him in a month, things will be different, but right now you’re confused, and you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

“Are you saying I don’t like him?” I ask.

“I’m saying you might, but now’s not a good time to be thinking about a relationship. Right now, you have to put yourself first. If, after you’ve cleared your head up a little, you still want to go for something with Frank, and he does to, than I say that’s fine. Now though, no. I’m putting my own foot down. I can’t lose you, Gerard,” Mikey says.

“You won’t,” I say, feeling guilt seep into my bones like a cold shower.

“I almost did last night. You lost yourself a few years ago, and that might as well have been it for you, but you got out of that. That was pretty brave of you, and I commend you for it, but right now, I’m far past disappointed. I’m so disappointed you wouldn’t even believe it. You pulled yourself up, and now you’re falling back down. I’m trying to offer you a ladder to climb yourself out, but it’s only going to help if you decide to hold a rung and climb for your life.”

“I don’t... I don’t need any-”

Mikey scoffs and gives me the most frustrated look he is humanly capable of making and says, “You’re not going to get better until you admit you’re messed up. You are though, and I mean that in the most loving way I can, because I can’t stand seeing you so miserable. You’re messed up, and until you own up to that, things are going to keep getting worse.”

“Mikey, I don’t want to be a loser who sits in one of those dark therapist rooms, and talks about their feelings,” I say.

“Then don’t be that person, and let yourself and everyone around you down. Be that person who’s so selfish and desperate to be depressed that you ruin everything and everyone. Be the person who chases a bottle of sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka, or steps in front of a train and ruins everyone else’s life along the way. If you get to be the one who ruins your life, why don’t you get to be the one who ruins everyone else’s, right? Be that person, Gerard. If you want to, be him. Be that guy. Be the one with the overly large picture standing on an abysmally boring pedestal, with an equally abysmal eulogy that pisses off everyone in the fucking church. Be that person, Gerard. Why would I care? Why? You’re just my brother, why would I care if you ruined your life? You’re just my best friend, why would I care if you died? You’re just stupid Gerard, why would I give a fuck if you let the demons win?”

“Mikey, I’m not going to kill myself,” I try to say, but Mikey just gives me this livid look.

“You also weren’t going to drink again, but look at how good you are at keeping your word?” He says, and that’s like a big blow to the gut. I probably wouldn’t hurt this much if he hit me in the head with a cinderblock.

“I don’t want to be that guy, Mikes.”

“Then suck it up and admit you’re not as perfect as you try to be. You need to either give in and realize you’re breaking, or you have to sit it out and wait for you to be too broken to fix. I don’t want you to break, Gerard, but the path you’re going down only leads to one thing. You’re not getting better by pretending you’re fine, because we both know you’re not,” Mikey says, “face it bro. You’re sick in the head right now, or you’re on the verge of being so. It’s getting kind of out of hand.”

“Well I mean, I can’t exactly help it. I can’t just stop and magically be happy because you want me to. That’s not the way the world works, Mikes.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not asking you to magically get better though. I’m not asking you to get zapped by a magic wand and turn to some happy lovey-dovey cartoon character. I’m asking you to look in a fucking mirror and see that something is wrong,” Mikey replies.

“But I’m... I’m fine.”

“A person who is fine doesn’t worry that they’re going insane,” Mikey replies. I have to admit it though, he’s got me there. I can’t really rebuttal that one.

“It was a bad day,” I try.

“Gerard, that was yesterday,” Mikey says sternly.

“But it was a bad day, and I made it through it,” I reply, because one day can be a big battle if your head makes it one.

“The bad can’t go away overnight. I don’t know precisely what happened between you and Frank. All I got was a hasty explanation from him, and I’m just really glad he didn’t do anything, Gerard. I don’t know how much worse off you’d be if he had.”

I frown, because I was kind of thinking I’d be better off. I had thought it was the rejection in the first place that made me sad, but apparently Mikey’s got other ideas. I don’t know when, and I don’t know why, but for some reason, Mikey seems to know more about me than I do myself. It’s kind of scary to be at odds with yourself, and it’s worse to fight internally without causation. Maybe it would be an easier fight to win, if I knew what side to take. Maybe I wouldn’t be in the mess if I knew even the smallest thing about myself.

“There’s no shame in admitting you need help. Everyone needs help every now and again. The cowardly thing to do is to deny it though. It makes you no stronger to fall by yourself, than to stand up with someone’s help.”

“You sound like a fucking inspirational speaker that gets invited to high schools, and makes the entire room fall asleep,” I reply.

“I’m glad to hear that you have retained your cynicism.”

“I am a cynic at heart, no matter what skin I wear,” I respond.

“You’re trying to steer off the point. You need to make up your mind whether you want to just drown yourself in self-pity, or get up and fucking do something about it. I don’t care if you’re mentally sick, or if you’re just really depressed at the moment. I don’t care. Okay? I don’t care what’s wrong, I just care that you try to get help with whatever it is,” Mikey states.

I look up at him and ask, “But what if something is really wrong with me?”

“Then you learn to live with whatever it is, and get better. I doubt it’s anything that you can’t work hard to fix though. You’re not a bad person, Gerard. You really aren’t. You’re just a bit muddled, and that’s okay. Everyone gets lost. Life doesn’t come with a map, and a step by step instruction guide. Besides, that would be no fun,” Mikey tells me.

He walks over to the kitchen counter and throws his keys onto it with a clang. I try not to look at him, but I can feel his eyes looking into me. I can feel him pitying me, and I hate it. I don’t like being pitied, it makes me feel gross. Like all I need is a shower.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything, Gerard. I’m just telling you that I care about you, and you’re caught up in the middle of all this which means that you can’t take a step back and look at yourself. You can’t look at this situation with a pair of fresh eyes, but if you could, you’d see what I see. You’d see a guy who’s starving himself, puking every other day, crying himself to sleep, who’s letting his eyes sink so far into his head that museums try to put him on display in an Egyptian mummy exhibit. You might not see those things as big as they are, but when it’s all together, it’s pretty obvious that something went wrong. So what do we do when something goes wrong? Throw it away and let it die? Or do you want to see what there is to do to make things better?”

I sigh, because Mikey isn’t going to give up on this one. He looks far too set in his position to give up on it. Also it doesn’t help that he’s right, and I’m being an idiot.

“I guess I should try to help myself get better.”