“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 Gerard Way saying. And he was right. We should never want to hurt ourselves, because nothing is worth taking our own lives over. My Chemical Romance taught us that. Now how could people who say things like that be bad and/or emo? MCR is a band that wants to save our lives – not take them away. They have taught us to stand up for ourselves, for what we believe in. They’ve given us strength that we thought we could never have. If it weren’t for MCR, many kids would have killed themselves by now.

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 10^th, 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 6^th and 7^th 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 7^th 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 “Helena”. The title was different from the other ones so I watched it. “Oh my dear god” I thought. I don’t know how to explain it, I suck at explaining things anyway, but this music did something. I sat staring at the computer screen at these five guys. The song spoke to my subconscious in a way that froze every thought I had. I found myself crying for no reason. I had to go and find more of their music. But I had to watch the video one more time. It hit “watch again” as more tears flowed. I was hooked. I went to listen to more. The next song I listened to was one called “I’m Not Okay (I promise)”. I must have watched those videos a thousand times that day. Those songs gave me a different feeling from the emptiness I had gotten used to. I felt happy. I swear I memorized most of those 3 songs that day from listening to them over and over again. MCR came into my life at just the right moment to slap some sense into me.

            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 8^th 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 8^th 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