How My Chemical Romance saved my life
MY SIDE OF THE STORY
“You’re not in this alone…”
Ok, I’m going to tell everyone how My Chemical Romance has
saved me, and how they DO NOT, repeat, NOT promote self-harm and suicide.
Because if they saved me, and others, how does that say they encourage death?
It’s simple logic. MCR doesn’t say that because we’re
depressed that it’s a good thing to kill ourselves or other kids. They’ve said
themselves that they’re against both of those things. “You should never want to
hurt yourself. You should love yourself...” I recall singer
Now here
is my side of this story:
When I was born – I didn’t smile for
two weeks. I’m serious – you can ask my mom. I was a very angry little chick.
Not sure why, I just was when I was born. But I grew up a rather happy child.
At my house, there was constant
controversy. My parents were always fighting, ever since I can remember. They
would fight about such stupid things too. Always yelling. I would go and hide
in my room. I can remember being like, 3 or 4, and sitting in my room by my
door waiting for the yelling to stop. They’ve said it themselves – they never
loved each other. I wasn’t even supposed to be able to be born. No one is
really sure how I got made – but I did so that’s that. And I know they must
have loved each other – once. Why would they even get married if they hate each
other so much? There must have been something in the beginning.
And then there was also always
fighting in my mom’s side of the family. My mammaw (mom’s mom, the only
grandparent I have left) was verbally and physically abusive to my mom – she
was physically abusive to mama even when my half-sister (who is now 31) was
little. So mum and mammaw have never gotten along either. And then my mom has 2
younger brothers, and the eldest of the two always sided, you might say, with
mammaw. He said awful things to mama too. So now my sister practically hates my
mammaw and that one uncle.
Here’s an example of one of the
family fights – mammaw gets into an argument with mama then mama comes home and
tells us and then daddy gets into an argument with mammaw and then when sissy
hears about it she just sits there and plots what she’s gonna do but she never
does it and then me and my 4 year old niece, Rhiannon, are sort of the monkeys
in the middle. Or another fight would be either daddy or me getting into an
argument with mammaw, and then mama gets involved. Or mama or daddy versus my
uncle – and then if it’s with him then my sister does that plotting thing
again. And again Rhiannon and me are caught in the middle.
“What will it take to show you
that it's not the life it seems?
I told you time and time again you sing the words but dunno what it means…”
As for religion, we’re quite
eclectic. My mom’s side of the family is hard-core Baptist, we’re sort of
Catholic, and my mom, sissy, and me are all into spiritualism and stuff. Like
my sister and mama have studied a lot of things about the Goddess, and my mom’s
really into Native American spiritualism, and I’ve studied herbology and
shamanism. We sometimes go to a psychic church. And when I was little, one of
the psychic ladies said I was an Indigo. An Indigo is a highly sensitive,
highly psychic child. Now I didn’t want to be an Indigo, I don’t want and don’t
need to have to deal with that pressure. But oh well. My, uh… powers you might
say, are I can feel energies really easily. I know what a person’s emotion is
when they just walk by. Or when I talk to them. I can sort of read what their
little emotion scale is. And if it’s a situation where they walk by, their
energy rubs off on me. I DON’T WANT IT but it does. And it’s f*cking hard to
keep away. I can also sense the energy of whatever spirit comes around. Please
don’t think I’m crazy – cause I’m not, I’m perfectly sane. But anyway… I can
feel negative energy really easy. Like if a bad spirit comes in, I get filled
with such unexplainable terror that I can’t relax for a while after. Again, I
try to keep the energy away – there are ways of doing that with your mind – but
they’ve never worked for me. I’m too weak – they energy always gets through.
My mom’s side of the family also has
a lot of anxiety trouble. We just freak whenever anything gets us rattled. And
we can’t help it. My mom said she would throw up when she was younger because
of it (ew…). Now I’ve never thrown up from anxiety (THANK GOD) but I do get
panic attacks all the time. Something can upset me just the littlest bit and I
go into hysterical tears. I start to feel nauseas and I get headaches and I
can’t focus my mind, and can’t stop crying.
As for school – during kindergarten
and first grade (I didn’t go to pre-school) I went to a private Catholic
school, but then my parents couldn’t afford it anymore so I went to the public
school near my house for second grade through fifth grade. I was never popular;
I had 3 friends and we were always together. And I was kind of a prep – around
here there was nothing else to be besides a prep or a freak. I listened to
Hillary Duff and even Britney Spears when I was younger (I was young and
foolish… don’t judge me!). Pop was pretty much the only music I listened to
then.
During my younger years I kind of…
lived in my head. I created different worlds – happier worlds – there. And I
began to loose touch with reality.
So that was my life until I was 11. But then it was time
for me to start middle school.
“Struck down, before our prime
Before, you got off the floor
Can you stake my heart…?”
I turned 11 on August 10th, 2004. Everything
changed then.
I tried going to the local middle
school, but it was terrible. It was dirty, the kids were dangerous, and the
education wasn’t very good. I went there for two days. My mom started to
home-school me then. I thought that was pretty cool, but the happiness didn’t
last. I had too much time on my hands, so I started to think about life and death.
Then it hit me – some day, every one I loved was going to die. I would be alone
then; left alone to die. I hated to be alone. The thought of being alone in the
world scared the sh*t out of me. That year I cried myself to sleep almost every
night from knowing that I had to wake up the next day. And I was afraid of what
the next day would bring; what if something terrible happened? We lived in a
dangerous neighborhood, there were and still are child molesters, drug dealers,
any kind of creep you could think of (who have honked and hooted at me as they
drive by since I was 10) all around where I live – anything could go wrong.
What if I got kidnapped? What if someone broke into our house at night and
killed somebody? And I was alone. In my heart, I was at least. No one knew how
scared I was, and they never would. I wished I were dead so I wouldn’t have to
face waking up and worrying. But I didn’t want to die either. I just wanted
things to stay the same as they were. And my mama was very sick. She got this
illness with a really long name from prolonged stress and she still hasn’t been
able to get the surgery to get rid of it (damn hospital/insurance people…).
She’s had it for like, 5 or 6 years now, and it takes a lot of her potassium.
She can’t work for very long, or even walk down the path to mammaw’s (which is
next door) some days without getting tired.
I eventually lost touch with two of
my friends from elementary school. I only talked to one. And I was
home-schooled all through 6th and 7th grade – giving me
plenty of time to think about my fears. By age 12, I had pretty much (emphasize
that “pretty much”) gotten over worrying about tomorrow, but I was still
depressed. I still didn’t want to go on living, but I felt like I could. I had
learned more about my psychic-ness during that time, and I thought I had it
under control. And still no one knew about what was going on in my head. I
hadn’t even told my only friend at that time, Danielle, about it. I was still
living in my head – I had completely lost touch with reality. I didn’t want to
leave my little world in my head. It was a world of fantasy. Life was good
there, things were safe, people were healthy – people were happy.
But then when I reached the end of 7th
grade, my parents couldn’t afford to home-school me anymore. We had always been
poor, but we reached a low point. I couldn’t stay at home, in my little world,
any longer.
I had always been rather good at
drawing, so my parents made me audition for the local art school. I pretended
like I wanted to go, but in truth, the idea made me cringe. The outside world –
that was a place I had grown to fear and hate. But alas, I made it into the
school for my 8th grade year.
“I'll photocopy all the things
that we could be
If you took the time to notice me
But you can't now, I don't blame you
And it's not your fault that no one ever does…”
I turned 13. It started out fine. I
had a few friends; they were more like the people I just followed around so I
wouldn’t be alone all day.
My
psychic-ness went completely mad as soon as I was introduced to the real world.
I didn’t know how to take the pressure of being different. For some reason –
people had never really accepted me. I knew I wasn’t pretty, I wasn’t skinny,
and I wasn’t smart. I mean – I got A’s and B’s but there’s a difference between
being smart and being wise. You can be
smart without being wise, and wise without being smart. And you can live a full
life and never learn anything. But if you never learn anything then you haven't
lived. But anyway… I was just weird. I’ve actually gone around and asked
people if they thought I was weird or not – most said yes. And I had never ever
had a boyfriend. So through the stress of trying to be normal and trying to be
smart AND intelligent and keeping my energies under control all at the same
time, I stopped eating. I didn’t want to eat. I was fat enough already and
anyway – I had no appetite. After being around all the different people at my
school who were filled with hate and jealousy, all those energies got rubbed
off on me and I was too weak to keep them away. And I couldn’t just stay away
from people; I had to go to school.
And the feeling you get when you
give out your heart to people but they don’t even know, and you get nothing but
hatred in return, is one of the worst feelings I have experienced in my
fourteen years on this earth. I don’t want to talk about it – so please don’t
ask.
Over the course of the school year I
changed. The pain changed me. I grew quieter, more distant, and I pretty much
stopped eating. And I became angrier; more sensitive. I feel so sorry for my
parents, they were concerned and I yelled. I didn’t mean to yell at them, my
words just always came out like that. They became used to my argumentative and
contrary attitude, so whatever I said, angry or not, they yelled back. A
conversation where at least one of us weren’t either crying or shouting was
rare. They began to believe that I didn’t love them. How could they possibly
think that? I was their baby girl, I loved them. But no matter how I tried to
cheer up, just for them, I couldn’t.
“Touched
by angels, though I fall out of grace
I did
it all so maybe I’d live this everyday…”
But then, at that time, my psychic-ness… well… betrayed me
in a way. I beg you – don’t think I’m crazy. I say again, I’m completely sane.
A demonic force came around. I had always kind of felt that presence since I
was 11 but this was something different. It would come and take over my mind sometimes.
It hurt so badly. It was like – I would feel it grab hold of me and drain out
all of my energy – like a vampire almost. I could feel it’s rough hand grab
around my throat and squeeze tighter and tighter until I couldn’t speak – so I
wouldn’t yell for help. I could taste its presence in my throat – it was
completely dry and burnt feeling, like dead, burning wood. It felt like death.
And then it would take its other hand and take hold of my solar plexus area –
which is the center of psychic power and stuff like that. I could almost feel
it breaking. It was right up against me. I could hear it laugh at my pain. It
would sometimes make me say things, get into fights with people, when I didn’t
mean to. And all I could remember afterwards was that an argument had broken
out and I didn’t know why. It would make me try to hurt myself – like one time
I nearly broke a glass jar in my hand, but I realized what was happening and I
threw it across the room before I could. And then sometimes, when I would be lying
in bed trying to get to sleep, I would feel it come up next to me and sort of
pin me down. Like in the movie “The Exorcism Of Emily Rose”, in the beginning
when the thing first comes and tries to get her when she’s in bed – like that.
Demonic rape.
I prayed and prayed for God to help
me. I wore my rosary and burned the sacred herbs. Nothing helped. Where was
God? Why didn’t They help me?
And I was getting panic attacks
sometimes a few times a week from all of that. My grades started to go down
cause I didn’t feel the strength to wake up in the morning and go to school.
And I couldn’t focus. My mind was running around like mad and I would break
down crying in the middle of class all the time.
I became so furious at the world that one day I poured my
heart out in an email to my best friend Danielle. She was the only one that
knew what was in my heart for a long time after that.
“Without
a sound,
And I
wish you away…”
But what I didn’t tell her was that
I was planning to end the pain. I was still dealing with that feeling you are
left with when you give out your heart and it is torn to shreds. I was tired of
not being good enough. I felt like I just got in the way; that the world had no
use for someone like me. And I didn’t know how to deal with the demonic thing
that kept coming back. So I was going to do something about it. I wasn’t going
to do the normal suicide, cutting my wrists. That’s way too messy and I’m too
organized for that. No, what I was going to do was mix together every poisonous
chemical I could get together; and since I had studied herbology, I knew what
plants could kill me and how long it would take for me to die; so I would put
those into the mixture, too. And then I would drink it right before bed, so I
could die in my sleep, holding my suicide note. Quiet and painless, it seemed
simple enough. That was late march when I decided that.
I waited for the perfect time to
leave. I thought that maybe if I did it on a weekend, the kids at school would
be less likely to ask about me. I knew they probably wouldn’t anyway, but the
teachers were sure to wonder, it was school-finals time and I was supposed to
be there.
Even though I had been raised
Catholic, I didn’t care whether I went to Heaven or Hell for what I was about
to do. Nothing mattered anymore.
“And I
love you for this day…”
I remember the day exactly. It was
Monday, April 2nd, 2007. I was sitting at my mammaw’s house, wondering why I
hadn’t gone ahead and just drank the poison yesterday. I’ll admit it, I was
scared. But I knew it had to be done. I couldn’t take it anymore. What seemed
like eternity was spent spinning around in her office chair thinking about what
it would feel like when I died. Boredom just made the hole in my chest hurt
worse because then my mind was free to wander back to what was happening. So I
decided to go listen to music on Youtube (I didn’t have an Ipod or many CDs, so
the internet was my only source of music). I didn’t listen to prep music
anymore, so I wanted something different. I had called Danielle to ask her what
songs she suggested I listen to (she didn’t know I was planning to be dead
soon). She had listed a few, including some by a band I had heard a little
about – My Chemical Romance. All the other songs were by people I had never
heard of.
I hung up the phone. I had never
liked MCR – I thought they were creepy as hell. But I still went to go find the
videos for the songs she told me about. But, alas, I have NO damn memory. I
couldn’t remember the name of the songs she told me about that were by MCR. I
know, I’m a retard. I told you I wasn’t smart. “Oh well” I thought, “they’re
creepy anyway”. Then the miracle came about that I remembered an article a girl
had written in our school newspaper about them. She talked fondly about a song
called “Welcome to the Black Parade”, so I figured, why the hell not? I typed
the name into the search bar. I watched the video. Their music seemed special;
different from what else I had heard. The
lyrics hit something psychologically.
“A
world that sends you reeling from decimated dreams
You're misery and hate will kill us all
So paint it black and take it back
Lets shout it loud and clear
Defiant to the end we hear the call
To carry on…”
I wanted to listen to more of their
music; I felt like I had to listen to more. So I typed "My Chemical
Romance" into the search bar. I found one called “
One
of the great things about the five guys that make up MCR is that they can
relate to anyone – no matter what class, age, or anything like that. Finally
some one that we can relate to – or better yet, someone that can relate to us.
Someone who knows what we’re going through. Much of the world looks down at us,
telling to either cheer up for once or to just go cut ourselves. This music
gives us the comfort we don’t get from others. We know that there’s a lot of
people who want to help, but being told by just anyone that we’re going to be
okay and to just get over it isn’t what we want or need to hear. That’s not
going to help. What is going to help is someone that has been through the same
exact troubles telling us that they know precisely how we feel and telling us
that there is hope because look how far they themselves have gotten. To know
we’re not alone is what we need.
“And we'll love again and we'll
laugh again
We'll cry again and we'll dance again…”
I emailed Danielle later that day to
tell her what I thought about the music I had listened to (and cried to)
earlier. I told her that I still thought they were creepy, but I liked the
songs. I didn’t really want anyone to know the real story.
I continued to watch MCR videos all
that week. I couldn’t stop watching those five angelic people. Their music was
beautiful.
I never did make that poison that
weekend; I had listened to MCR so much that week that the thought of killing
myself hadn’t crossed my mind. I researched the band; I wanted to know
everything about them. I listened to every song of theirs I could find on
Youtube. Their music gave me strength. Life began to go by very fast.
I
went back to school and couldn’t stop talking about them. My friends (those
kids I followed around to keep from being alone, remember?) told me I was
obsessed. I denied it. I wasn’t obsessed with MCR. There’s a difference between
being obsessed with someone, and loving them unconditionally for saving your
life. “Why”,
they asked, “do you people obsess so much over music?”
I told them: “Because there are some of us that have never ‘fit in’ with
the society of today, and we end up feeling completely alone. But then when we
find something, like music, that is similar to us, we don’t feel quite so
alone. As human beings many of us have a sort of fear of being alone, and we
need something to lean on when we need support. And for some people, music is
the only thing that will accept them and always be there for them. Now, if you
were someone that was accepted and loved only by music those you have met
through music, wouldn’t you love music in return?
It is not ‘obsession’. It’s love.”
They still didn’t understand. No one could.
And almost all of the kids I knew hated MCR. They thought they were just some
weird faggot band.
Why do we who do love MCR,
love MCR so much? Human beings need Beauty to survive. Like water, like air,
Beauty is a food for the soul. It’s a need we’re all born with. The world needs
the Beautiful. There are four main kinds of true Beauty; Love, Decency,
Kindness, and Beauty itself (the physical kind). And they can be in Mind, Body,
or Spirit. Now the Beauties are a rare thing these days. So when something –
such as MCR – is found that has all four kinds (Love, Kindness, Beauty and
Decency) in all three forms (Mind, Body, Spirit), there’s either a feeding
frenzy, or people shut it out. Why would people shut out something that we
need? Because they don’t understand the Beautiful any more. In these days of
“the rat race” and the “dog eat dog world”, many people stopped caring about
Beauty. So that knowledge we have when we’re born, that understanding and need
for Beauty, has been lost to a lot of people. Those people still need Beauty,
but they don’t see it when it’s right in front of them. And as humans we fear
what we don’t understand. It’s an instinct that’s born into all beings, the
fear of what’s not understood by us. But there is still Beauty in this world.
Oh yes, it’s there. It always has been and hopefully it always will be. We just
need to understand not to be afraid of it.
“Lets say
goodbye
The hundreth time
And then tomorrow we'll do it again…”
But then came the 8th grade dance. All the
troubles came back. I don’t want to talk about it, and I never will again so
don’t ask. But I started to get one of my famous panic attacks then. I was in
hysterical tears. I wanted to die. My friends kept asking me what was wrong so
I had to tell them. They sat with me all during the time they should have been
having a good time. I told them to go, but they wouldn’t. One of them made me give
her my phone and she called my parents to come and get me. I was really mad at
her at the time but now I see that it was for the best.
When I got home I put on my pajamas
and sat down in front of the computer, lying to my parents and telling them I just
didn’t feel good. Cheap lie, I know, but my mind wasn’t working well, and it
was all I could come up with. I slipped the headphones on and pulled up
Youtube. I felt worse than I had ever felt; I was thinking about going and
getting the recipe I had made for the poison. I knew I needed MCR. They were
the only ones that could help me come to my senses. The normal songs didn’t
help much, so I looked for others. I found one called “Our Lady Of Sorrows” and
recalled that Danielle and I had talked about some of their best songs from all
three albums and that one came into the conversation. My memory always came
back when I needed MCR. I clicked the link for the song.
“Stand up fucking tall,
don’t let them see your back
Take my fucking hand
and never be afraid again”
I needed them to tell me
that. I had been afraid my entire life; and I had felt so alone, but not now.
It was as if an angel was there, holding me, telling me not to cry, that I
would be okay.
Summer vacation came.
Life slowed down again. The demonic presence had never really left, and it came
back worse than it had ever been. It took over my entire body; I could only
feel my soul struggling to get loose at the very pit of my solar plexus.
Looking around felt like looking out windows that weren’t mine. And they
weren’t mine anymore – I had no control. I felt so numb then. You know how when
you go outside and go into the woods or somewhere like that, and you can feel
the sunshine on your skin, you can feel the warmth in the wind; you can feel God
when you look up into the endless sky. Treasure that. Treasure all feeling you
have – cause it’s a hell of a lot better than feeling nothing at all. I prayed
that I could feel again, I would even be fine with pain, just so that I may
know that I was still alive. I would try to hurt myself, just to see if feeling
had come back. It hadn’t. I wanted to die again. I didn’t want to be numb
anymore. The sky, end there was no clouds, reminded me of being numb and it
scared me. To this day I still stay inside as much as I can whenever there are
no clouds. I know I’m weird.
“And lifeless cold
Into this well
I stared as this moment was held for me…”
My mom and sissy made
me go to the beach with them one day. I tried to drown myself. But Rhiannon was
nearby and that kind of stopped my ability to properly drown. And I’m a good
swimmer too – but I didn’t want to be. I wanted to feel the pain of the
stinging salt water. But something happened and the numbness stopped. The demon
left. I was ecstatic. As soon as I could, when I got home, I went to go and
listen to the music that had already saved me twice.
The summer continued
fine, I guess. That was when I found this project, the We’re Okay Now project.
I found more people that were like me. Yay! I felt a little better knowing that
I had friends that were like me. That loved MCR as much as I did.
A few times during the
summer I began to feel like I wasn’t good enough again. I still wasn’t skinny,
wasn’t pretty, and wasn’t smart. And I was afraid of loosing my friends and
MCR. I was terrified that I would wake up one day and realize that me finding
MCR was just a dream. I actually slapped myself really hard a few times to make
sure I was awake. I’m not crazy I tell you! But anyways… during the summer I
felt like I wasn’t good enough for this world. But because MCR said that I
shouldn’t hate myself, that I should love myself like they love me, and that I
should never want to hurt myself, I didn’t try to hurt myself anymore. And I
tried really hard to not to hate myself, but it was hard.
“A drink for the horror that
I'm in,
For the good guys, and the bad
guys, for the monsters that I've been.
Three cheers for tyranny, unapologetic apathy,
Cause there ain't no way that I'm coming back again…”
I turned 14. My dad
gave me an MP3 for my birthday and I put my MCR songs on it. I was so happy I
could keep my music with me all the time – or at least most of the time.
School started again.
The night before it started I fell asleep listening to them. I was scared to
death that the troubles from last school year would return this year. But MCR
got me calmed down. I felt relaxed. I only got an hour and a half of sleep that
night – but at least I did sleep.
The first week of school seemed to go ok; I thought that maybe I was finally
free from the ghosts of the previous year. But depression is similar to a rainstorm. A rainstorm
comes and soaks the Earth and after that, many living things grow. And those
living things stay there until the rain comes back. The things created by it
never really go away, they just wait in the shadows until something comes along
to bring them out again. The troubles did come back.
Everything from previous year, except the demon. I felt
like he was there, watching and waiting, but not the exact cause of what was
happening,
“And I feel like there's nothing
left to do
But prove myself to you…”
I had changed a lot since 8th grade. I was being myself. But
for some reason that wasn’t a good idea to some people. I gained true friends,
I was happier with myself, but I wasn’t the person my family wanted me to be. I
wasn’t little miss sunshine anymore. I loved black, I loved the rain – those
things were comforting to me.
I kept thinking, "MCR loves me - Danielle and the
people at the We’re Okay Now forum love me" but for some reason the
message wasn't getting through my head and I don't know why. It’s like, you
know how your family always says they love you, and then in the Bible they say
God loves you, but it's just not the same as being told "I love you"
by the people you love. Like your friends, and… *sigh* it's just not the same.
I didn't think my family even liked me anymore. I know they love me, but I
didn’t think they liked me. They didn't like who I’d become. And my
sister constantly teased me mercilessly about me loving MCR. Like she and mama
think I’m completely in love with Gerard. I AM NOT. I love him, but not like
fan girl, romantic love or anything. He’s over twice my age; that’s just wrong.
I love all of MCR because they saved my life and made me feel like I’m not the
only person in the world like me. And my sissy blamed me that my 4-year-old
niece is turning into an obsessed fan girl for Gerard (IT’S NOT MY FAULT SHE
BLOWS KISSES TO HIS PICTURE!).
And then they kept insulting me. Like I know they didn't
mean to but they said really hurtful things about the way I dress and stuff.
Example: my mom called me weird the other day just cause I love the rain and
I’m not scared at all of it. She’s always said that I wasn't weird but
now she's thinking otherwise. And they said things about the way I dress like
“well I didn’t know we were in mourning…” and “you know everyone’s gonna think
you only have one outfit if you keep wearing the same thing (in reference to my
favorite hoodie – it makes me feel secure so I wear it a lot) everyday” and
things like that. And not intentionally - just out of habit - I kind of hid
behind my side bangs and kept my hood on my hoodie up because it made me feel
safe. My mom said I was hiding from the world and that I shouldn’t hide my
beauty. What beauty? I was convinced I was flawed in everyway. I’m not pretty,
I’m kind of fat (fatter than most of the chicks I know anyway), I was weird, I
wasn’t like my family, I wasn’t that smart, I was weak, and I just couldn’t
seem to do anything or say anything right. And I couldn't loose weight. I’d
been on an eat-once-a-day diet for about 2 years and I’d exercise whenever I
had the strength to, but I was still 150 on a 5ft, 6.5-inch frame. WHY? I’d
nearly tried throwing up, but I never could. And I couldn’t sleep much. It
would take me like an hour or more to get to sleep [note: I go to bed between
10pm and 11pm and wake up at 6am] and then I’d wake up between 2am and 5am and
I couldn't ever get all the way back to sleep. I would doze on and off but
never fully asleep. And I’d get such headaches during the day from not sleeping
and not eating.
“Stop asking me questions
I’d hate to see you cry…”
And then at school - I made my friends sad when they’d ask
me what's wrong and I’d end up saying something like "I tried to kill
myself in my mammaw's shower last night" (yes that is something I said to
my friend Susie – SHE ASKED). I don't want to make my friends or family sad.
Anything but that. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut.
So I was okay for
a little while. I wasn’t the perkiest chick in the world but I wasn’t suicidal.
I was stronger. Now during the past years I began to be able to see my Spirit
Guide more and more (don’t you dare think I’m crazy). By this time I could see
him plain as day. He had told me several months before that I would soon be
ready for him to leave and that he would have to go. He promised that he would
make sure that I had someone that would take good care of me as my next Guide.
I was like “okay” but I didn’t realize that the time he had told me about would
come so soon. I had noticed that my Guide looked a little different but I
thought nothing of it. One day the Guide that looked a little different was
sitting next to me and my older Guide appeared. Damn I was confused for a
minute… but then I figured it out. It was time. My old Guide said that it was
time for him to leave, and that the Guide I had been seeing would be my new
one. I started to cry. He said that it was time for him to go to the next
spiritual plane, and I told him I was happy for him and that I would be fine.
Then he disappeared – just like that. I was left sitting there with my new
Guide. I cried so hard I shook. Not because I was sad that he left, but because
I was mad at myself for being stuck in this lifetime and not being smart enough
to make it to that same plane as him. Why couldn’t I just have learned in my
past lives? And then I wouldn’t be in this world. I wished I was dead again.
Now he would sometimes turn on different MCR songs to tell me things, because
he knew I would listen to them. Well right when he left the song cancer came on
my MP3, which was nearby.
“But counting
down the days to go
It just ain’t
living
And I just hope
you know
That if you say
goodbye today
I’d ask you to
be true
Cause the
hardest part of this is leaving you”
Treasure those you love, but if
they have to go, let them. Life must go on…
Thanks to MCR and the friends that I
have through MCR, I haven’t tried to hurt myself, or worse. I know I’m not
okay, but I will be. Or maybe I don’t have to be. I’m ME and that’s all that
matters. I don’t hate myself anymore, I don’t think I’m ugly anymore, I feel
like I can survive. Sometimes I am afraid to keep on living, and I am very
afraid to walk this harsh world alone, but I know I’m not alone as long as MCR
is in this world. I’m happy thanks to them.
I just realized
I told my life story… oops. Hehe.
“On and on we carry through the
fears
The disappointed faces of your
peers
Take a look at me 'cause I could not care at all
Do or die
You’ll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Go and try; you’ll never break me
We want it all, we want to play this part
I won’t explain, or say I’m sorry
I’m unashamed, I’m gonna show my scar
Give a cheer, for all the broken
Listen here, because it’s who we are…”
I
know I’m not the only one that has been saved by MCR. Yes, they talk about
death; yes, some of their lyrics are... questionable. Yet if you look past the
black clothes and eyeliner and you pay attention to what is actually being
said, you realize that they point out the sorrow that’s in death. Look at the
song “Cemetery Drive” for example. That’s an ANTI-suicide song. And their more
questionable lyrics are actually them pointing out what goes through the mind
of young people when they’re depressed. So it’s almost as if MCR is saying
“What’s going through doesn’t make sense dude, get a hold of yourself...” Like
one part of their song “Teenagers” (which is about gun-violence), “The boys and
girls in the clique, the awful names that they stick. You’re never gonna fit in
much kid. But if you’re troubled and hurt, what you got under your shirt will
make them pay for the things that they did...” Isn’t that what goes through a
kid’s mind before they go on a shooting rampage through their school? MCR
points out what’s scary and horrible about doing something like that in that
song. And in the wise words of Gerard, “At times there will be people out there
who are willing to do anything to put you down! But don't EVER solve that with
violence! Cause you're faster then them, better then them, and a HELL lot
better looking then them!" MCR has never wanted anything bad to happen to
their fans, they stand up for us. They’re our friends when we feel like we
don’t have anybody.
So
with all of this saying that My Chemical Romance is harmless and not, repeat,
not emo, how come people won’t stop saying otherwise? The wider world needs to
open their eyes. MCR is not the problem. Look in the mirror and the problem is
there, not in some kid’s CD collection.
Love
and peace…
– Sarah, age 14
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