What wouldn't I do for you?
With Ears to See and Eyes to Hear
Gerard [P.O.V.]
Another loud crash as they fight for the fifth straight hour. Every word cutting each other down so one may win. In fighting is there ever really a winner? No, there can't be a winner, just one who is a bit more emotionally injured than the other. Soft blows to each other never meant much to them. Their entire relationship has been nothing but blistering fights. I hang on to my last bit of sanity, doubting it is even there. A few more dreadful insults and they will 'love' each other again I'm sure. When they do they will revert their hatred back to me as though some how I deserve what is coming to me. I choose to avoid their conflict but will they ever pardon me? No, that is too easy. I don't deserve happiness according to them. I am putrid scum in their eyes. I defile their existence with my lifestyle. I have heard it all before. Mother says it is all because I'm a bad egg. Mikey only wants to die because I have never been there for him. I don't help him, but she does and always will. Never helping me though because I am not worthy of her love and affection. I am nothing but a broken child. They can see it clearly, hell, everyone can. I don't hide the fact that inside I am nothing less than a feeble child who just had its sucker stolen by the bigger kids. I'm weak. They tell me daily now. I hear their foot steps descending the stairs. I am locked in my dungeon. All the skeletons in my closet are on display. The world can see those who have wronged me and who I have wronged in return. They bombard my locked door. They pound on it. I beg them to leave. I can feel tears welling inside me. I just wish they would leave me be. This is nothing but a camisado, but yet I hope that they relinquish me once again. Anguish builds in my heart. I have sold my soul devil only to find nothing but pain lies for me in the after life. Maybe this is my purgatory or plain hell, but what if God does not exist and I live in nothing but a vast plain of useless pain and torture. Life what a philosophical question that haunts the minds of those able to look beyond what we see and wonder what could lie beyond this and that. I watch as they burst into the darkness with contempt in their bold eyes. My spirit though lies not with in my own form but above it. I hover over myself as though it is a dream, or more so a nightmare. I lay witness as they strike. One hand flies as a fist balled into my stomach. It reaches my guts and reminds me of how terrible my life really is. A sorrowful existence to a damned man that can do nothing but wait for it to end. I hold true to I will never hit back. They don't deserve my fight, they offend me with their presences and I can't do much else that to lie there and take it. My blonde hair is looking darker each day. I miss my long black lots that would so easily hide my facial bruises as I wonder how I got here. I lay in agony as blow after blow is delivered and wonder as to how long it will be until it is over. I finally from above my huddled form watch the black figures exit in silence. This is nothing but my existence. Some times I wonder if it is truly worth it, all the pain and then I remember my poor little brother in the hospital bed, my boyfriend who has to now visit a mental health doctor twice a week, my meek friend who hides in the shadows behind long bangs wondering if anyone truly cares, and finally I see him, the one who gets it. Brendon the boy who has been and still is in my exact position. He said no one ever cared for him, and I wonder if he might be right until I remember every glance Ryan makes toward him. The love that lay in his eyes is far more meaningful than any hit could ever damage. I wonder if Frank has the slightest idea of what has been happening to me, but for his sake I do hope that he does not. I can't let him be further damaged by this horrible pain that is my life, but I can't leave him because with out him I would have one less reason to continue to hang on. He seems to be the rock that keeps me in place and maybe it is that, that continues my heart telling my brain that I can take this for one more month. I feel myself being pulled back into my body and as my spirit is thrust back in the wave of pain crashes against my feeble form. I see his face though, his small smile, his gorgeous eyes and his bangs that wrap just right around one and I am content. I love him and maybe that is all I need. His love is all I may ever need.
Another loud crash as they fight for the fifth straight hour. Every word cutting each other down so one may win. In fighting is there ever really a winner? No, there can't be a winner, just one who is a bit more emotionally injured than the other. Soft blows to each other never meant much to them. Their entire relationship has been nothing but blistering fights. I hang on to my last bit of sanity, doubting it is even there. A few more dreadful insults and they will 'love' each other again I'm sure. When they do they will revert their hatred back to me as though some how I deserve what is coming to me. I choose to avoid their conflict but will they ever pardon me? No, that is too easy. I don't deserve happiness according to them. I am putrid scum in their eyes. I defile their existence with my lifestyle. I have heard it all before. Mother says it is all because I'm a bad egg. Mikey only wants to die because I have never been there for him. I don't help him, but she does and always will. Never helping me though because I am not worthy of her love and affection. I am nothing but a broken child. They can see it clearly, hell, everyone can. I don't hide the fact that inside I am nothing less than a feeble child who just had its sucker stolen by the bigger kids. I'm weak. They tell me daily now. I hear their foot steps descending the stairs. I am locked in my dungeon. All the skeletons in my closet are on display. The world can see those who have wronged me and who I have wronged in return. They bombard my locked door. They pound on it. I beg them to leave. I can feel tears welling inside me. I just wish they would leave me be. This is nothing but a camisado, but yet I hope that they relinquish me once again. Anguish builds in my heart. I have sold my soul devil only to find nothing but pain lies for me in the after life. Maybe this is my purgatory or plain hell, but what if God does not exist and I live in nothing but a vast plain of useless pain and torture. Life what a philosophical question that haunts the minds of those able to look beyond what we see and wonder what could lie beyond this and that. I watch as they burst into the darkness with contempt in their bold eyes. My spirit though lies not with in my own form but above it. I hover over myself as though it is a dream, or more so a nightmare. I lay witness as they strike. One hand flies as a fist balled into my stomach. It reaches my guts and reminds me of how terrible my life really is. A sorrowful existence to a damned man that can do nothing but wait for it to end. I hold true to I will never hit back. They don't deserve my fight, they offend me with their presences and I can't do much else that to lie there and take it. My blonde hair is looking darker each day. I miss my long black lots that would so easily hide my facial bruises as I wonder how I got here. I lay in agony as blow after blow is delivered and wonder as to how long it will be until it is over. I finally from above my huddled form watch the black figures exit in silence. This is nothing but my existence. Some times I wonder if it is truly worth it, all the pain and then I remember my poor little brother in the hospital bed, my boyfriend who has to now visit a mental health doctor twice a week, my meek friend who hides in the shadows behind long bangs wondering if anyone truly cares, and finally I see him, the one who gets it. Brendon the boy who has been and still is in my exact position. He said no one ever cared for him, and I wonder if he might be right until I remember every glance Ryan makes toward him. The love that lay in his eyes is far more meaningful than any hit could ever damage. I wonder if Frank has the slightest idea of what has been happening to me, but for his sake I do hope that he does not. I can't let him be further damaged by this horrible pain that is my life, but I can't leave him because with out him I would have one less reason to continue to hang on. He seems to be the rock that keeps me in place and maybe it is that, that continues my heart telling my brain that I can take this for one more month. I feel myself being pulled back into my body and as my spirit is thrust back in the wave of pain crashes against my feeble form. I see his face though, his small smile, his gorgeous eyes and his bangs that wrap just right around one and I am content. I love him and maybe that is all I need. His love is all I may ever need.
@katiekilljoy
@TwistedKnife
@beautiful_freak
I actually have another story in the process. it isn't ferard but has some in it. it's called "life isn't fair" it's on here so if you wanna check it out.
1/12/14