Sequel: I Guess We Never Really Moved On ›
I Can Hardly Stand That You Were Mine
But it was too late.
You know that saying love will tear us apart? I never paid it any mind. Sang it in the song, treated it as any other normal saying.
I never thought that any song, any lyric could describe my life so much. It was almost ridiculous.
But I guess what scares me the most is how true it was. Love did tear me apart, my skin ripping and tearing at the seams. My lungs and my heart began to fail, then speed up and explode. The skin that covered my bones because to decay, change it's color from its pale color to a soft blue hew.
I was dying, hell I am dying.
Love tore me apart.
Fucking you tore me apart.
I don't know why I didn't realize it earlier. I can't possibly fathom why I didn't flee, run from this entire thing, when I had the chance. When everything was going wrong, when things began to fall apart for you. And evidently, for us too. I felt it coming, though. I felt it coming a very long time ago, but I ignored it for your sake, and for my own. I continued on with what I thought was a wonderful life.
My life.
Your life.
Our life.
The day it happened was and still is fresh in my mind, swimming graciously inside my now empty soul. The only part that halfway comforts me is I knowing it haunts you everyday, coming back full force in your dreams. I know it does, I make sure of it every night when you lay your head to sleep.
You dream about it, and when you don't dream, you think about it. And when all else fails, you begin to draw a picture, which turns, into the accident itself. All of these things together make you wonder what life would've been like if it never happened.
It feels like just yesterday, but in all actuality it was two and a half months ago...
**
I was relaxing, at home, planning on writing a new song, or drawing a new idea for later use. But then my phone rang, and the caller picture ID read your name, it showed your face.
The picture was a small one, of you smiling. We were at the beach, you took photos, and I took one of you as we tumbled along in the sand. Do you remember that day? Do you remember the fake happiness we enjoyed together? The fucking amazing sex we had later that night?
Probably not.
At first, I ignored it, because we weren't speaking, at the time.
I was one month into being sober, and I didn't want to party anymore. I had other things to worry about, like work, like writing music, like playing shows, and drawing for the dream I had yet to fulfill. But you, you wanted to go out and get plastered, have fun, come home, and make noises our neighbors could never forget. A fight had ensued, you had left, and I stayed home.
But with one glance at the clock, the time screaming back at me, pushing me to do otherwise than just stare at the vibrating piece of technology in my hand. So I answered.
"Yes Sara," I had hissed into the phone.
Party music screamed back at me, something quick and blood pumping like Avenged Sevenfold's Bat Country.
"Hey, is this Gerard?" A person yelled into the phone, the voice so unfamiliar from your soft, comforting tone.
"Yeah, who's this?" I asked, fear evident in my voice. Someone else had called me from your phone, which never happened before. "Where's Sara?"
"She's right here buddy, don't worry," the person, a guy I assumed, told me. "I just found her stumbling around here and I asked her if there was anyone I could call for her."
A frustrated sigh left my lips, my teeth gnawing on my bottom one. You were drunk, again, at another late night Jersey party. And the host, or some other innocent bystander was hanging around and you probably fell on them. So they wanted to get rid of you, wanted me to take you away. You were killing yet another party.
"All right, thanks," I told this guy, dropping my notepad and pen onto the sketching desk and stood up, starting for the bedroom to get my shoes. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Matt. Matt Stevenson. Are you gonna uh...pick her up?"
"Yeah, I will. Um, where do you live?"
"Number 4 on 223 Main Street. I'll stand with her outside and help her into your car or something..."
"Thanks, thanks a lot Matt. I'll be there in five," I said, hanging up the phone. After I got my sneakers laced up, grabbed my leather jacket and keys, I exited our apartment and took the elevator downstairs to the car park.
I noticed you had taken the Jeep, which left me with the Convertible. I sighed, jumped in, revved up the engine, and prepared to find you.
**
Oh I found you, all right.
When I pulled up to 'Matt's' apartment, you sat on the curb, a drunken sobbing mess. Matt stood above you, his arms folded.
"Hey," I said to him, curling my hair behind my ear. "I'm Gerard and uh...well I am so so very sorry about this."
"No problem," Matt said casually. "She's been crying for a while now, about how you're not gonna love her anymore or some shit, so I decided to just leave her alone."
Great. I don't know if you know this, but when you're drunk, you go through every single emotion I've ever heard of. You're like the seven dwarfs. You go from happy, to sad and crying, to depressed and emotional, to quiet, to sleepy, to happy and high. And by the time I get you to bed, you're just plain drunk.
I sighed and bent over to look at you. You wore your favorite black skinny jeans, and a white tank top, with a blank one underneath. Your long dark hair was a mess on top of your little head, and your usually shiny blue eyes were dull and filled to the rim with tears.
As soon as you set eyes on me, you immediately stopped crying and jumped on me.
"Gerard!" You slurred, arms clutched tight around my neck. I stumbled backwards but caught you anyway. "You made it!"
"Yeah babe," I muttered. "I made it."
You then proceeded to attempt to kiss me, but I turned my head and you got my cheek, and latched your lips on. When you pulled away you grinned at me, a hazy look in your eyes, and my cheek slick with your saliva.
"C'mon Sara, let's get you home."
"Home! Home is where the heart is," you began to sing and I just rolled my eyes. You leaned backwards, belting out all random crap and I pulled you towards the passenger seat of the car, so I could keep an eye on you while I was driving.
Matt opened the door for me, and I placed you inside. You wanted to close the door yourself, having stopped singing your song, but closed the door on your leg instead. A loud cry filled the air and Matt and I simultaneously yelled 'shit!' I lifted your leg for you and placed it inside as you cried, and Matt closed the door, after double-checking for other limbs and fingers.
I leaned over the door and put the seatbelt over you, petting you on the head as I turned around to thank Matt.
"No problem," Matt said, cutting me off. He chuckled at me and shook my hand. "It happens to my girlfriend all the time."
I grinned at him and clapped him on the back as I walked around the car and got in, putting my seatbelt on. He waved goodbye as I put the car into drive and took off, you dozing off beside me.
But of course in no time, and after I took my eyes off of you for a second, you were awake and ready to be loud and rambunctious again.
"Gerard," you whined, stressing the 'a' in my name. "Don't you just love and I mean l-o-v-e love, love, love life?"
"Sure," I grunted. I wasn't very happy with you. I was trying to live life sober, and here you were being a drunken obnoxious ass, pissing me off. How was I supposed to stay clean with you acting like this?
You began to sing a Flyleaf song, so I glanced over at you, your soft voice captivating me. But when I did, all I saw was your legs.
I made a double take, and saw you sitting on top of the seat. I had left the top down, wanting you to get some air just in case you decided you wanted to puke your guts all over the new car. But I wasn't expecting you to sit up on the seat and dance, with your hands up in the air, eyes closed.
"My hands are searching for you, my arms are outstretched towards you...” You sang loudly.
"Shut up," I muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly in my hands.
I heard you groan, the lights from the cars passing by probably giving you a headache. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched you sway slightly, but catch your balance. I grew weary of you, scared that you might fall or something much worse.
"Sara can you sit down please?"
"But Gerard," you said, having the audacity to whine. Did you really wanna fucking argue with me right about now?
"Don't even start," I snapped. We always did this, we always got into some pointless argument when we were drunk, but ended it in sex. This time, I was sober, you were drunk, and I wasn't even gonna look at you after tonight. "Just sit in the seat like a normal person, and stop acting like a fucking two-year old."
"Gerard," you cried and my eyes snapped to you before concentrating back on the road. I tried to keep the car steady, while simultaneously listening to you. "Baby, I'm so sorry..."
"I don't wanna hear it," I said coolly. You probably realized you had done wrong. You should've after your tenth drink though, good job Sara.
"I'm s-s-serious," you slurred and your hand came down on my shoulder, twisting my arm that was holding the steering wheel. The car twisted a turned a little bit, in and out of the lane.
"Don't fucking do that!" I screamed at you. "Don't you see me fucking driving, what are you trying to do - kill us both?"
You giggled.
You had the fucking audacity to giggle and slide back down into your respectable seat, smiling at me from behind your mess of hair. I snorted and looked back at the road, hand gripping even tighter onto the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
"Gerard," you called, and I felt your hand slide onto my lap, the other on my arm.
"Get off of me."
"But Gerard!" You yelled. "I. Not...don't be mad at me! I love you Gerard, and I'm gonna stop for you...Gerard..."
"Don't you say my name one more time," I growled.
You began to shake my arms, tears leaking out of your eyes and then I just snapped.
"Jesus woman, what is wrong with you? Why the hell do you do this shit for, huh? You got me out at this fucking time to come pick your drunken ass up, and for what? For you to make empty promises to me? I can't fucking deal with you anymore!"
"Gerard don't say that!" You cried, your grip still tight on my arm as you continued to shake me. Your eyes, glazed over with tears and from the alcohol, you glanced around you and then back at me. "You love me! We love each other!"
"How in the fuck am I supposed to love you if you act like this?" I yelled, staring at you. "You're supposed to help me through this, Sara. Help me become a better person, and not the alcoholic has-been I was in high school. But you can't even keep yourself clean!"
"Gerard..." You murmured carefully but I cut you off.
"You're so fucking ridiculous, Sara!" I went on to say. "How can I deal with this anymore? Stop being a fucking drunk for one minute and realize what you're fucking doing to yourself."
"Shut the fuck up!" You interrupted. "I do this shit because of you, Gerard Way! I drink because of you, because I can't take this shit any longer."
"I beg to fucking differ," I said and when I looked back onto the road, there was a bright light and I heard you scream. I attempted to steer the car in a different direction than the oncoming light,
But it was too late.
**
I watched you everyday after that.
I watched you tear yourself down, emotionally. I saw every tear leave your eye, and trickle down your face. I saw you scream into the mirror in the bathroom, distraught with what happened. I saw you fall apart in the bathroom, I saw you treasure every drawing in the house. I saw you run to that fateful highway, sit where the crash had happened, and cry until you couldn't anymore.
You were unable to cope, for a while. Not sure of what to do, where to go, what the answer was. Until one day I finally saw you get up, crawl into that bathroom you had fallen apart in every time. I saw you pin up your hair, wipe your face clean, and shower. You dressed, got into the Jeep, and drove off.
I continued to watch you until you finally got up from the hard plastic chair, your turn arriving. You approached the front of the room, reading to introduce yourself to everyone. Your hands were trembling; you were never good with crowds unless you were drunk. You clutched a bracelet in your hands, one that sat loosely on your wrist, above the tattoo you had gotten recently.
You clear your throat.
"Hello, my name is Sara and I'm an alcoholic."
Gerard Arthur Way
April 9th, 1977 - October 20th, 2007
Loved by his family, friends, and fans.
A respected singer, artist, boyfriend, friend, brother, and son.
She figured it out, Gee. She figured it out.
I never thought that any song, any lyric could describe my life so much. It was almost ridiculous.
But I guess what scares me the most is how true it was. Love did tear me apart, my skin ripping and tearing at the seams. My lungs and my heart began to fail, then speed up and explode. The skin that covered my bones because to decay, change it's color from its pale color to a soft blue hew.
I was dying, hell I am dying.
Love tore me apart.
Fucking you tore me apart.
I don't know why I didn't realize it earlier. I can't possibly fathom why I didn't flee, run from this entire thing, when I had the chance. When everything was going wrong, when things began to fall apart for you. And evidently, for us too. I felt it coming, though. I felt it coming a very long time ago, but I ignored it for your sake, and for my own. I continued on with what I thought was a wonderful life.
My life.
Your life.
Our life.
The day it happened was and still is fresh in my mind, swimming graciously inside my now empty soul. The only part that halfway comforts me is I knowing it haunts you everyday, coming back full force in your dreams. I know it does, I make sure of it every night when you lay your head to sleep.
You dream about it, and when you don't dream, you think about it. And when all else fails, you begin to draw a picture, which turns, into the accident itself. All of these things together make you wonder what life would've been like if it never happened.
It feels like just yesterday, but in all actuality it was two and a half months ago...
**
I was relaxing, at home, planning on writing a new song, or drawing a new idea for later use. But then my phone rang, and the caller picture ID read your name, it showed your face.
The picture was a small one, of you smiling. We were at the beach, you took photos, and I took one of you as we tumbled along in the sand. Do you remember that day? Do you remember the fake happiness we enjoyed together? The fucking amazing sex we had later that night?
Probably not.
At first, I ignored it, because we weren't speaking, at the time.
I was one month into being sober, and I didn't want to party anymore. I had other things to worry about, like work, like writing music, like playing shows, and drawing for the dream I had yet to fulfill. But you, you wanted to go out and get plastered, have fun, come home, and make noises our neighbors could never forget. A fight had ensued, you had left, and I stayed home.
But with one glance at the clock, the time screaming back at me, pushing me to do otherwise than just stare at the vibrating piece of technology in my hand. So I answered.
"Yes Sara," I had hissed into the phone.
Party music screamed back at me, something quick and blood pumping like Avenged Sevenfold's Bat Country.
"Hey, is this Gerard?" A person yelled into the phone, the voice so unfamiliar from your soft, comforting tone.
"Yeah, who's this?" I asked, fear evident in my voice. Someone else had called me from your phone, which never happened before. "Where's Sara?"
"She's right here buddy, don't worry," the person, a guy I assumed, told me. "I just found her stumbling around here and I asked her if there was anyone I could call for her."
A frustrated sigh left my lips, my teeth gnawing on my bottom one. You were drunk, again, at another late night Jersey party. And the host, or some other innocent bystander was hanging around and you probably fell on them. So they wanted to get rid of you, wanted me to take you away. You were killing yet another party.
"All right, thanks," I told this guy, dropping my notepad and pen onto the sketching desk and stood up, starting for the bedroom to get my shoes. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Matt. Matt Stevenson. Are you gonna uh...pick her up?"
"Yeah, I will. Um, where do you live?"
"Number 4 on 223 Main Street. I'll stand with her outside and help her into your car or something..."
"Thanks, thanks a lot Matt. I'll be there in five," I said, hanging up the phone. After I got my sneakers laced up, grabbed my leather jacket and keys, I exited our apartment and took the elevator downstairs to the car park.
I noticed you had taken the Jeep, which left me with the Convertible. I sighed, jumped in, revved up the engine, and prepared to find you.
**
Oh I found you, all right.
When I pulled up to 'Matt's' apartment, you sat on the curb, a drunken sobbing mess. Matt stood above you, his arms folded.
"Hey," I said to him, curling my hair behind my ear. "I'm Gerard and uh...well I am so so very sorry about this."
"No problem," Matt said casually. "She's been crying for a while now, about how you're not gonna love her anymore or some shit, so I decided to just leave her alone."
Great. I don't know if you know this, but when you're drunk, you go through every single emotion I've ever heard of. You're like the seven dwarfs. You go from happy, to sad and crying, to depressed and emotional, to quiet, to sleepy, to happy and high. And by the time I get you to bed, you're just plain drunk.
I sighed and bent over to look at you. You wore your favorite black skinny jeans, and a white tank top, with a blank one underneath. Your long dark hair was a mess on top of your little head, and your usually shiny blue eyes were dull and filled to the rim with tears.
As soon as you set eyes on me, you immediately stopped crying and jumped on me.
"Gerard!" You slurred, arms clutched tight around my neck. I stumbled backwards but caught you anyway. "You made it!"
"Yeah babe," I muttered. "I made it."
You then proceeded to attempt to kiss me, but I turned my head and you got my cheek, and latched your lips on. When you pulled away you grinned at me, a hazy look in your eyes, and my cheek slick with your saliva.
"C'mon Sara, let's get you home."
"Home! Home is where the heart is," you began to sing and I just rolled my eyes. You leaned backwards, belting out all random crap and I pulled you towards the passenger seat of the car, so I could keep an eye on you while I was driving.
Matt opened the door for me, and I placed you inside. You wanted to close the door yourself, having stopped singing your song, but closed the door on your leg instead. A loud cry filled the air and Matt and I simultaneously yelled 'shit!' I lifted your leg for you and placed it inside as you cried, and Matt closed the door, after double-checking for other limbs and fingers.
I leaned over the door and put the seatbelt over you, petting you on the head as I turned around to thank Matt.
"No problem," Matt said, cutting me off. He chuckled at me and shook my hand. "It happens to my girlfriend all the time."
I grinned at him and clapped him on the back as I walked around the car and got in, putting my seatbelt on. He waved goodbye as I put the car into drive and took off, you dozing off beside me.
But of course in no time, and after I took my eyes off of you for a second, you were awake and ready to be loud and rambunctious again.
"Gerard," you whined, stressing the 'a' in my name. "Don't you just love and I mean l-o-v-e love, love, love life?"
"Sure," I grunted. I wasn't very happy with you. I was trying to live life sober, and here you were being a drunken obnoxious ass, pissing me off. How was I supposed to stay clean with you acting like this?
You began to sing a Flyleaf song, so I glanced over at you, your soft voice captivating me. But when I did, all I saw was your legs.
I made a double take, and saw you sitting on top of the seat. I had left the top down, wanting you to get some air just in case you decided you wanted to puke your guts all over the new car. But I wasn't expecting you to sit up on the seat and dance, with your hands up in the air, eyes closed.
"My hands are searching for you, my arms are outstretched towards you...” You sang loudly.
"Shut up," I muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly in my hands.
I heard you groan, the lights from the cars passing by probably giving you a headache. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched you sway slightly, but catch your balance. I grew weary of you, scared that you might fall or something much worse.
"Sara can you sit down please?"
"But Gerard," you said, having the audacity to whine. Did you really wanna fucking argue with me right about now?
"Don't even start," I snapped. We always did this, we always got into some pointless argument when we were drunk, but ended it in sex. This time, I was sober, you were drunk, and I wasn't even gonna look at you after tonight. "Just sit in the seat like a normal person, and stop acting like a fucking two-year old."
"Gerard," you cried and my eyes snapped to you before concentrating back on the road. I tried to keep the car steady, while simultaneously listening to you. "Baby, I'm so sorry..."
"I don't wanna hear it," I said coolly. You probably realized you had done wrong. You should've after your tenth drink though, good job Sara.
"I'm s-s-serious," you slurred and your hand came down on my shoulder, twisting my arm that was holding the steering wheel. The car twisted a turned a little bit, in and out of the lane.
"Don't fucking do that!" I screamed at you. "Don't you see me fucking driving, what are you trying to do - kill us both?"
You giggled.
You had the fucking audacity to giggle and slide back down into your respectable seat, smiling at me from behind your mess of hair. I snorted and looked back at the road, hand gripping even tighter onto the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
"Gerard," you called, and I felt your hand slide onto my lap, the other on my arm.
"Get off of me."
"But Gerard!" You yelled. "I. Not...don't be mad at me! I love you Gerard, and I'm gonna stop for you...Gerard..."
"Don't you say my name one more time," I growled.
You began to shake my arms, tears leaking out of your eyes and then I just snapped.
"Jesus woman, what is wrong with you? Why the hell do you do this shit for, huh? You got me out at this fucking time to come pick your drunken ass up, and for what? For you to make empty promises to me? I can't fucking deal with you anymore!"
"Gerard don't say that!" You cried, your grip still tight on my arm as you continued to shake me. Your eyes, glazed over with tears and from the alcohol, you glanced around you and then back at me. "You love me! We love each other!"
"How in the fuck am I supposed to love you if you act like this?" I yelled, staring at you. "You're supposed to help me through this, Sara. Help me become a better person, and not the alcoholic has-been I was in high school. But you can't even keep yourself clean!"
"Gerard..." You murmured carefully but I cut you off.
"You're so fucking ridiculous, Sara!" I went on to say. "How can I deal with this anymore? Stop being a fucking drunk for one minute and realize what you're fucking doing to yourself."
"Shut the fuck up!" You interrupted. "I do this shit because of you, Gerard Way! I drink because of you, because I can't take this shit any longer."
"I beg to fucking differ," I said and when I looked back onto the road, there was a bright light and I heard you scream. I attempted to steer the car in a different direction than the oncoming light,
But it was too late.
**
I watched you everyday after that.
I watched you tear yourself down, emotionally. I saw every tear leave your eye, and trickle down your face. I saw you scream into the mirror in the bathroom, distraught with what happened. I saw you fall apart in the bathroom, I saw you treasure every drawing in the house. I saw you run to that fateful highway, sit where the crash had happened, and cry until you couldn't anymore.
You were unable to cope, for a while. Not sure of what to do, where to go, what the answer was. Until one day I finally saw you get up, crawl into that bathroom you had fallen apart in every time. I saw you pin up your hair, wipe your face clean, and shower. You dressed, got into the Jeep, and drove off.
I continued to watch you until you finally got up from the hard plastic chair, your turn arriving. You approached the front of the room, reading to introduce yourself to everyone. Your hands were trembling; you were never good with crowds unless you were drunk. You clutched a bracelet in your hands, one that sat loosely on your wrist, above the tattoo you had gotten recently.
You clear your throat.
"Hello, my name is Sara and I'm an alcoholic."
Gerard Arthur Way
April 9th, 1977 - October 20th, 2007
Loved by his family, friends, and fans.
A respected singer, artist, boyfriend, friend, brother, and son.
She figured it out, Gee. She figured it out.