Escrita por: iguer
– I'm not okay – I tell Brendon through the phone, and I know I am not. It is a curious thing to be sure you are not okay, this does not happen much. Normally you just feel you are not fine, but this is as far as a step away from being sure you are unwell, both feet firmed a bad place. But I am sure now. Just yesterday I was so lost in my feelings, not understanding anything, not knowing what I was feeling... and now I am so sure.
At least I have this. At least I understand what is happening. I don't have to deal with the anguish of not knowing.
I cry so very much, but at least, apparently, it makes me tired and drains all my energy along with the tears, so eventually, I am so tired that I fall asleep.
I wake up only five hours later, but, despite having slept only few hours, I feel better, more relaxed; it really did me well to rest a little. I am awake earlier than necessary to get ready for school, but I get up already all the same and start to get ready just so I have something to concentrate on and stop my head from getting filled with thoughts about... that.
I suddenly stop, getting hit all at once with tons of thoughts about yesterday. Gerard's parents tell my parents, my parents tell me. Just like that, like a silly gossip about some silly thing someone did. It all feels so unfair. Just when we were finally making things right... It feels like the universe wants to keep us apart. We lived alongside for so long completely ignoring each other in a way, seeing only what we wanted to see, what we thought more convenient at the time. Then, when we finally start to connect, to see each other... this!
This is all so unfair. I cannot understand why this is happening to me.
I try to go back to getting dressed, putting books and notebook in the backpack, etc. But as soon as I take a step, I feel dizzy. My head is spinning. I realize I'm panting. I sit on the bed, looking straight into a point on the floor, but not really seeing anything since my vision started to get dark.
Sadness. I conclude. Yes, yes. I sigh very relieved. Finally I can understand what I'm feeling and it's not so despairing. Sadness is annoying, yes. But it is better than that deep anguish and despair I have been feeling. I could not help but think and think and think and think. What ifs filled me. The idea of Gerard being away devastated me. What if he is gone for very long? What if he is gone forever? What if he dies? The most part of my brain was aware of the absurdity of those suppositions, but a small part insisted on revising them and that small part screamed so loudly it was impossible for the rest of my brain to ignore. What if?
There was one that was not an imagined situation, though. Gerard was gone. That was not a "what if", that was a "what now". I guess I should know what happens now since I am living the answer right now. What happens if he is gone? This happens. Whatever is happening right now happens. But I have no idea what is happening. I understand nothing, not a thing, not even myself.
Yesterday I cried myself to sleep in anguish and despair. This morning I wake up feeling only sadness. That's better. I have never felt less will to go to school, but Brendon told me to be there; maybe there's something he wants to talk about with me.
So I'll go to school.
I try to act normal during breakfast so that my mom will not realize anything different in my humor, but it is no good. I can feel her looks on me.
So I go to school.
My mind is all numb. My body moves around but I can absolve none of the things the teacher say. I just stumble around praying that nobody speaks to me so that I don't have to say anything in answer. I'm lucky, because nobody does.
Only Brendon, during lunch, which I'm grateful for. I realize that deep inside, beneath the will to stay silent, was buried a huge will to speak nonstop. Just burst it all out. I wanted to speak even if I didn't have anything to say.
But not with just anyone. All I am craving right now is someone that would understand where I was, where I spoke from and how I felt. Someone that knew what and how I was feeling and that maybe was feeling the same.
And somehow, I felt that Brendon was that someone.
– I am worried about you – I tell Frank when we are sitting at a table on the back of the cafeteria.
– About me? It's not me you should be worrying about, it's them. Mikey came back to being asleep and Gerard... Gerard is fucking arrested.
– I am worried about you, Frank – I repeat stubbornly.
– There's nothing about me to get you worried, man, don't you understand what is happening!?
– Frank – I call and stare at his face waiting for him to make eye contact. After some seconds, he does. – You are the one that doesn't understand what is happening. What might happen with you.
– With me? I am not in danger, I didn't do anything.
– You are in danger of your own mind. Frank, I know how much you care for Gerard. I know, because I care all the same for Mikey. I realized that you like him very, very much, and I don't want you to get yourself in a funk because of what is happening. You need to take care of yourself, so that you can be strong to deal with all that that is happening. Okay? Do that for Gerard, okay? – He was silent while I spoke. – Do you understand what I'm saying?
– I guess I do.
– No problem.
– Is it really that obvious that I feel like that for Gerard? – That makes me laugh.
– Well, I don't know, maybe it was easier for me to realize it because I was in the same situation.
– Do you like Mikey?
– Yes – I say right away, without a doubt.
– Do you like him very, very much?
– So much sometimes you're afraid?
– Yes... – I look away, shy because of the question and because of the truth of my answer.
– So much that sometimes if feels like it might hurt you?
– Does it hurt?
– The fear does.
– What are you afraid of?
– That thing might not work out, you know?
– I do.
– That he might not like me the same way.
– Is this love?
– I don't know...
– Do you love Mikey?
– I don't know...
– It does seem like love, doesn't it?
– Yeah, it does. Do you feel the same with Gerard?
– I can't imagine myself having the guts to tell him, though – I say.
– Me neither – Frank says. – But maybe we should.
– Yeah, I think we really should.
I don't know why this is happening to me. Many times I ask myself, or the universe, or whatever "why me?"
The worst part is knowing I am to blame. I cannot lay the blame on anyone else, or anything. I know this is on me. It does and does not make things easier. I try to take this acknowledgement something positive, one more step towards getting in control of this... thing inside of me.
I have had anger issues for a while now. I guess since always, but it only started being a problem when I was around twelve. I would get so angry if anything did not go as I wanted it to.
I have always liked to fantasize that this issue only hurt myself. It was incredibly hard to face that it was a problem and needed solving, it was easier to just say "fuck it" –as if that helped in anything– and pretend that I was fine and that I could live the rest of my life with it. I did use to see a psychologist when I was thirteen, which helped, but did not solve the problem, mainly because I kept saying to myself that that was me, and that there was no changing it. After all, I was the only person suffering because of it... right? Wrong. Of course that was not true, but I pretended just the same. But now there was no more pretending. There is a person lying unconscious in the hospital because of me; a person whose face is almost unrecognizable because of me.
I am sitting on my bed, in my room. I have a roommate, but he is at the socialization area while he can: soon the area in which we can stay will be only the dorm wing.
I have been here for only some hour, but it was enough to know the whole place, it is not very big. It is not the worst facility, not as bad as I was afraid, but still, bad enough for me to be resolute since the first moment I stepped in that I would give my all to get out of there as soon as possible and never, ever come back.
It was pretty badly illuminated, which gave a little headache and nor very comfortable; there were a lot of benches and sofas but none of them were, in the slightest, cozy of welcoming. Neither was my bed. Also, the room was very small for two people. My roommate seemed to agree with me because he did not seem to like the idea of having to share his space with someone.
But the absolute worst were the other inhabitants. All those sad, angry, anguished faces. All those boys who had made mistakes, and were paying for them, pricey. It made me feel horrible to complain about such silly things as having a small room. Being there only made me realize how privileged I was, for having a big room for myself, for having a nice house, I nice family, parents who cared for me, friends, to go to a good school, to be able to dream, to plan a future, etc. Those boys did not have this. And to think that I was taking all that that I had for granted and risking losing it all... I was so disappointed at myself.
I put my elbows on my knees and my face on my hands. I take a deep breath in, when I hear a voice from the door.
– Well, well, look whom we have here. I heard you were coming.
And before I could breathe out the owner of the voice has a hand around my neck, pressing the fingers tightly. He presses me lied hard against the mattress with the weight of his heavy body lying over mine.
– Missed me?