Life Is Hard
Title: Life Is Hard
Author: s0methingwick3d
Pairing: None (le gasp)
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of self-mutilation
POV: second person, Gerard's
Summary: It's not that you think you're a mess. It's more that you know you are, and that kind of makes you cry, (and you cry way too often now).
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Gerard by writing a fictional story about how fucked up life is. I don't even know the guy!
Author Note: This is angsty and written at 3 in the morning,(like all my other fics). The "there" Gerard talks about is his alchoholism and depression. I'm sorry if it's hard to understand, but I wanted to show how fast people think when they're really fucked. Fight/flight, ja ne?
It's not that you don't know who you are. It's just that it's scary when you know someone else better than yourself, and you can't even predict your own actions anymore. And it's not that you think you're a mess. It's more that you know you are, and that kind of makes you cry, (and you cry way too often now). Somehow, the run-on sentences and explinations for why you are the way you are just aren't enough anymore. And it's only when you really start to think,(and you mean really think; in the middle of the night when the last thing you want to do is start thinking about this shit now), that you start to realize--you're scared. And you really, really hate that. And that's when you decide to make the pain go away. Because there aren't many things that are worth this, and you'll do anything not to go back there, not to embarrass yourself and your family and friends like that. You'll do anything. When you want to hurt things all the time, when you want to rip into your own skin, shred it with your teeth, when you find that maybe you're not as sane and well-put-together as everyone seems to think; that's when it's time to find, something, anything that'll make your brain stop. Because you don't have time for this. You don't have time to don the fake moustache and pretend to be Freud and examine your entire fucking being for hours on end because you may not like what you find and yes you are a coward, but aren't we all really? Well, aren't we? And you shake, and you try desperately not to cry because that will only make this feeling you get real, and you want to avoid that at all costs. It means that you really got this upset over simply not being able to do something, that your failure somehow sends you into a tailspin, a whirlpool of turmoil that sucks you down, down, and where you end up...? You always think that this is forever. You catch yourself thinking that you'll never get out,you'll never escape... and then you realize that this could simply be defined as a "bad mood". So does this make you high-strung, that you want to die over something that most people barely glance at over the course of their lives, that one simple incident leaves you feeling as if something inside you just died and you have no idea what it is but you think maybe that it's important, that you need it, oh god, you need it, and you didn't even know you needed it until it was too late? Just,fucking why? Life is hard, you reason. That's why. Life is hard.
Author: s0methingwick3d
Pairing: None (le gasp)
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of self-mutilation
POV: second person, Gerard's
Summary: It's not that you think you're a mess. It's more that you know you are, and that kind of makes you cry, (and you cry way too often now).
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Gerard by writing a fictional story about how fucked up life is. I don't even know the guy!
Author Note: This is angsty and written at 3 in the morning,(like all my other fics). The "there" Gerard talks about is his alchoholism and depression. I'm sorry if it's hard to understand, but I wanted to show how fast people think when they're really fucked. Fight/flight, ja ne?
It's not that you don't know who you are. It's just that it's scary when you know someone else better than yourself, and you can't even predict your own actions anymore. And it's not that you think you're a mess. It's more that you know you are, and that kind of makes you cry, (and you cry way too often now). Somehow, the run-on sentences and explinations for why you are the way you are just aren't enough anymore. And it's only when you really start to think,(and you mean really think; in the middle of the night when the last thing you want to do is start thinking about this shit now), that you start to realize--you're scared. And you really, really hate that. And that's when you decide to make the pain go away. Because there aren't many things that are worth this, and you'll do anything not to go back there, not to embarrass yourself and your family and friends like that. You'll do anything. When you want to hurt things all the time, when you want to rip into your own skin, shred it with your teeth, when you find that maybe you're not as sane and well-put-together as everyone seems to think; that's when it's time to find, something, anything that'll make your brain stop. Because you don't have time for this. You don't have time to don the fake moustache and pretend to be Freud and examine your entire fucking being for hours on end because you may not like what you find and yes you are a coward, but aren't we all really? Well, aren't we? And you shake, and you try desperately not to cry because that will only make this feeling you get real, and you want to avoid that at all costs. It means that you really got this upset over simply not being able to do something, that your failure somehow sends you into a tailspin, a whirlpool of turmoil that sucks you down, down, and where you end up...? You always think that this is forever. You catch yourself thinking that you'll never get out,you'll never escape... and then you realize that this could simply be defined as a "bad mood". So does this make you high-strung, that you want to die over something that most people barely glance at over the course of their lives, that one simple incident leaves you feeling as if something inside you just died and you have no idea what it is but you think maybe that it's important, that you need it, oh god, you need it, and you didn't even know you needed it until it was too late? Just,fucking why? Life is hard, you reason. That's why. Life is hard.