No Amount of Eyeliner Can Hide the Tears I Shed
Thinking
I was alone again, and I sat in complete darkness. Frank had just left, and while he was here he had screamed at me to get on with my life. Everybody I knew had. The conversation had started normally, the same line said over again.
"Gerard, I know you're upset about your grandmother, but you gotta keep moving forward. I know you can, Gee. I believe in you." Frank looked me in the eyes. I waved the air and looked away from him, a tear falling from my eye.
"Frankie, I can't let her go. She helped me become who I am today..." Another tear came crashing. That was when I started crying. Where I wanted to die and just let everybody see this from my point of view. My Gramma died a year ago while I was having a grand old time touring with my band and having sex with the one person I thought I loved. And apparently, my little brother knew what had happened to Gramma all along. And he never told me. Until a year later I came home awaiting a warm hug and kiss from Gramma, telling me she was so damn proud of me. I never got it.
"Hey Mom, where's Gramma?" Just this simple question had her crying. My Dad sat me down and told me what had happened.
It killed everything in me. When I heard, I thought, 'Oh, I'm gonna be fine.' But I was wrong. I wasn't fine. I died inside, going numb. My inspiration was gone, dead. Long gone, to be exact. Frank looked me in the eyes again.
"Gee, I know this is going to be hard, what with the band and everything- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" I had taken pills. With beer.
"It helps me, Frankie. I need beer to survive. Beer is good Frankie..." I smiled at him. He got louder then, angrier.
"The only thing beer and anti-depressents are going to do are gonna get your ass either thrown in jail or your going to fucking die!! Gee give it to me, NOW!" I took another swig of beer. It went down my throat, burning like my soul.
"No... You have no idea what you're talking about Frankie. If you're going to fucking yell and scream at me, then leave. I don't want people yelling and screaming at me." He narrowed his eyes.
"Your the one who's fucking KILLING yourself everyday! We're trying to fucking GET RID OF YOUR PROBLEMS!!!" I smiled, and took another swig, tilting my head back to finish off the rest. I threw the bottle aside and stood up.
"I need another beer..." I mumbled, and staggered past him.
"NO GERARD! You do NOT need more beer in your amune system! It's going to kill you!" he screamed at me, and I turned and slapped his face. My eyes were hateful.
"Franklin Thomas Anthony Iero Jr. you do not tell me what to do! I am a grown man, I can do whatever I please! LEAVE MY GOD DAMN HOUSE RIGHT NOW!!!" I slapped him again, and punched him in the face. He deserved it. Everybody deserved it. He looked at me with sad eyes.
"I never want to see you waste away your life, Gee. But here you are, wasting it away on beer and pills. I thought you were my best friend... But I guess I was wrong by making that assumption. Goodbye, Gerard Arthur Way. Don't talk to me if you're still going to live the rest of your life away." And with that he walked out of my house.
"Bye, bitch." I called out to him and he paused, shook his head, and continued to walk out to his car...
The beer in my hand was ice cold, a new beer. I probably had about 6 or 7. Or 15. I lay on my back, thinking over about what had happened in my life so far. My slutty girlfriend had been cheating on me, my Gramma had died, my band hated me, and I was all alone. Yeah, some life.....
"Gerard, I know you're upset about your grandmother, but you gotta keep moving forward. I know you can, Gee. I believe in you." Frank looked me in the eyes. I waved the air and looked away from him, a tear falling from my eye.
"Frankie, I can't let her go. She helped me become who I am today..." Another tear came crashing. That was when I started crying. Where I wanted to die and just let everybody see this from my point of view. My Gramma died a year ago while I was having a grand old time touring with my band and having sex with the one person I thought I loved. And apparently, my little brother knew what had happened to Gramma all along. And he never told me. Until a year later I came home awaiting a warm hug and kiss from Gramma, telling me she was so damn proud of me. I never got it.
"Hey Mom, where's Gramma?" Just this simple question had her crying. My Dad sat me down and told me what had happened.
It killed everything in me. When I heard, I thought, 'Oh, I'm gonna be fine.' But I was wrong. I wasn't fine. I died inside, going numb. My inspiration was gone, dead. Long gone, to be exact. Frank looked me in the eyes again.
"Gee, I know this is going to be hard, what with the band and everything- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" I had taken pills. With beer.
"It helps me, Frankie. I need beer to survive. Beer is good Frankie..." I smiled at him. He got louder then, angrier.
"The only thing beer and anti-depressents are going to do are gonna get your ass either thrown in jail or your going to fucking die!! Gee give it to me, NOW!" I took another swig of beer. It went down my throat, burning like my soul.
"No... You have no idea what you're talking about Frankie. If you're going to fucking yell and scream at me, then leave. I don't want people yelling and screaming at me." He narrowed his eyes.
"Your the one who's fucking KILLING yourself everyday! We're trying to fucking GET RID OF YOUR PROBLEMS!!!" I smiled, and took another swig, tilting my head back to finish off the rest. I threw the bottle aside and stood up.
"I need another beer..." I mumbled, and staggered past him.
"NO GERARD! You do NOT need more beer in your amune system! It's going to kill you!" he screamed at me, and I turned and slapped his face. My eyes were hateful.
"Franklin Thomas Anthony Iero Jr. you do not tell me what to do! I am a grown man, I can do whatever I please! LEAVE MY GOD DAMN HOUSE RIGHT NOW!!!" I slapped him again, and punched him in the face. He deserved it. Everybody deserved it. He looked at me with sad eyes.
"I never want to see you waste away your life, Gee. But here you are, wasting it away on beer and pills. I thought you were my best friend... But I guess I was wrong by making that assumption. Goodbye, Gerard Arthur Way. Don't talk to me if you're still going to live the rest of your life away." And with that he walked out of my house.
"Bye, bitch." I called out to him and he paused, shook his head, and continued to walk out to his car...
The beer in my hand was ice cold, a new beer. I probably had about 6 or 7. Or 15. I lay on my back, thinking over about what had happened in my life so far. My slutty girlfriend had been cheating on me, my Gramma had died, my band hated me, and I was all alone. Yeah, some life.....