Save Me

Emo.
What a confusing, stereotypical word right?
I mean most people who use it don't even know what it means. I don't even know what it means, really. It's been used in so many ways... there's the way most of society sees it, where you self-harm and complain about all your stupid little problems like attention seekers, and then there's the way some really great people use it to describe that it's not about slitting your wrists, it's about self-expression.
In my opinion, it's where we even mention the term we, as people, go wrong. It's just another form of labeling people: categorizing them to further judge without even really knowing anything about them.
Why is it so necessary to slap this word across my forehead because of the way I look? What just because I died my hair black and wear band t-shirts I'm automatically like everyone else who does the same? I mean don't get me wrong, a lot of these people are great; most of them I could walk right up to and become best friends with, ya know, if I could actually handle talking to people I don't know, but still, I don't want to be just another black crayon in the depressed box of 'emo'. That's not how it should work. After all, it's what's on the inside that counts.
But I guess that's just my opin--
"Gerard! You're going to be late for school!" my mom yelled, dragging me back into reality.
I sighed. I really need to stop getting so caught up in my thoughts.
The problem is that I always feel like I can't express myself; like there's too much going on in my head and I try to sort everything out but I always feel like I'm forgetting something.
My brain is like an office pooled with ideas written in files, all littered around the floor in general areal categories, but still a complete chaotic mess.
I guess my way of over thinking, analyzing, and attempting to word out all my thoughts is like a temporary filing cabinet. But then once I stop or finish thinking about whatever topic is bothering me, all the organization is gone and I have almost a need to try it all over again.
It’s probably a side effect of hardly having any human interaction throughout the day. It kind of gets lonely, and I feel empty at times, but I can't help it, I'm not a people person. Most of them either scare or irritate me. I also feel like none of them would actually care.
Let’s be honest, people only really care about themselves. We’re all too caught up in worrying about what others will think about us that we forget to think about others.
That's one of the reasons why I like living in the alternate world that is my chaotic mind. People actually care about me, like I'm always the center of attention. It's embarrassing, I know, but humans have an uncontrollable desire to be in the limelight.
So I make up scenarios instead of actually dealing with my indecision with actual people and sometimes that helps me cope with my reality.
However sometimes it only magnifies my issues and I end up more depressed than I already am.
And sometimes it even gives me an irrational fear that people can read my mind. That I've actually gotten used to, however I think it's affected the way I do things. I mean wouldn't anyone act differently if they thought someone was constantly watching them? Constantly hearing what they hear, seeing what they see, or knowing what they think?
There’s also some things that I can’t even bother thinking about because of guilt or embarrassment, so I’ve tried to push those aside.
It's strange, this whole overthinking thing is both the solution and the culprit of all my problems. When I get lost in thought it's like opening a word document and writing an angry letter to someone I hate and I’m free to edit it all I want. How brilliant.
Shit- I'm doing it again. See? I even think about the way I think too much about things. Is that normal? No, I'm probably just going crazy.
Oh well, time for school, I groaned.
***
I stepped into the front seat of the car, my mom already having the key in the ignition and my brother, Mikey, head-bobbing along to his earphones in the back seat. I, of course, got lost in my psychopathic imagination as we bumped through the uneven road until I saw a short figure down the street leaning against a mailbox. He had a tired face until my mom slowly strolled to a stop in front of him, in which he put on a small smile for.
"Hey" he greeted us while climbing in next to the oblivious Mikey.
"Hey, Frank," I replied back with a grin. Frank was my best, and only, friend. We were friends since I moved here and we were the only two in our 9th grade English class without partners, so the teacher forced us to work together. I had to admit, he looked pretty damn rad and intriguing with the sides of his head shaved and dyed blonde and the top part longer black and messily framing his face, although I think that overall we were both a little disappointed at first, being that he was almost as antisocial as me and we would have loved to just work alone, however the awkward tension slowly drifted away as we discovered we had a lot in common.
I grew to love this quiet boy who turned out to be rather eccentric and fun once I got to know him. At first it was a very infatuated love. yes, and this is something I hate to admit especially since he's sitting in the car seat right behind me this very moment, I had had a crush on him. But that was one of the things I pushed away as our friendship grew because it was never something I would ever be able to admit and something I don’t think he would ever be able to handle because, after all, he's as straight as a ruler. So for the sake of our friendship, I silently scolded myself every time I thought of him in that way and eventually, it ended. No more panicking butterflies flooding my stomach every time I saw him, just normalness.
We're both juniors now and unfortunately, we don’t have any classes together this year, but we do walk home together every day, and, when his mom is feeling slightly less strict, he goes to my house or I go to his.
Now back to the present.
Naturally, as it was almost eight in the morning and we were all too tired to carry on any further conversation, the rest of the ride was quiet until we got to the enormous prison called school.
What can I say, it really did look and feel like a prison; everyone thinks so.
We stepped out, said our goodbyes to my lovely maternal driver, and shuffled our way to the side entrance. Frank was silent as we walked. Maybe it was just because he's tired, but I don't know, he's been kind of bipolar lately. Like one minute he's all hyperactive, bouncing off the walls and always excited to see me, and the next he's just distant with a confused expression plastered across his face. I could almost swear he even avoids looking at me at times. Not like Frank at all...
I let it slide for now, predicting that I'll probably just think way too much about it later- such a bad habit- and sat down in my seat for the first of many classes I know I won't be able to pay attention in. And that was that. For the rest of the day. Just boredom and the occasional panic due to my social anxiety whenever the teacher told us to work in groups. What, they expect me to actually talk to these crazed, popular hipster kids who don't even know the difference between Lynyrd Skynyrd and Led Zeppelin? As if.
And then I went home, walking with Frank who was still not in a talking mood, so we just shared my headphones and listened to his iPod until we reached his house and I finally asked that dreaded question that's been on the edge of my tongue for days: "Are you okay?"
That snapped his attention back to me. "Yea, I'm fine, I'm just... thinking about something."
"Well yeah, dumbass, I got that much on my own. But what are you thinking about?" Was that a slight blush on his face? Is it just me or is he looking quite flustered?
He opened his mouth to explain but shut it again like he had changed his mind.
Okay now he's definitely blushing.
"Nothing," he simply said instead.
Well obviously it's not 'nothing' because he just said it was 'something', but I let it go; it was obvious he didn't want to talk about it.
"Well, bye," he finally said. I mumbled a 'bye' back and continued walking the lonely road to my house, once again lost in thought.
I congratulated myself. It was actually an okay day today. I mean, other than Frank's odd actions. No bullies, no embarrassment, and for the most part, the depressing thoughts were at a minimum.
But of course, the celebration didn't last long.
Once I reminded myself of my ongoing depression, the battle in my head raged once again, in efforts of sorting out my feelings. In a word I felt hopeless. I guess the gist of it is I really don't see the point of life. Well doesn't that sound suicidal, but it's true.
I'm not looking forward to the future. All I see is disappointment and worry. After high school, there's college; after college, there's work and then you die. Nothing left but memories. And let's be honest, the world is quite an ugly place. What is there to make up for the bad of it, really? What- Love? As if that's ever going to happen for me.
As far as the 'suicidal' thing goes, I've never attempted to end my life. However I do find myself thinking about it a lot. Not necessarily in an 'I'm considering it' way but more of an interestedway. Just another one of my odd mind simulations- what would people think? How would they react? Would anyone even miss me?
Of course my family would miss me, and I'd like to think Frank would as well, but other than that...
I sighed and frowned at myself for falling into that pit of sorrow once again as I stumbled inside my front door. After waving to Mikey who was watching TV on the couch like a normal teenager, I made my way up to my room with hopes of some inspiration to draw yet another one of my slightly-creepy drawings I oh so love to create, but I just couldn't get any ideas into my head.
This has been happening a lot too. I love to draw but I just can't find anything anymore. It's like I’m losing control of everything that's important to me and my addictive mind-monster is taking over.
I resorted to turning on the radio-- Blink-182's "Adam's Song" was currently playing-- and taking a nap instead. And of course this leads to more thinking until I fall asleep.
The worry that maybe something was up with Frank popped into my head. What, did I do something wrong? I don't think so, I'm just the same as ever- with people I put on a smile and pretend I'm happy and not actually going insane from my hyperactive mind, however with Frank my feelings are usually genuine because he can distract me in the best of ways, but now... and I don't think my birthday's coming up anytime soon so I doubt it's a surprise party he's fretting about. I let my anxiety get the best of me as my panicked brain fell in line with my accelerating heartbeat. I just can't lose Frank, he's my only friend.
Somehow, however, in all the cluttered thoughts I managed to fall asleep.

Notes

Hi!
This is my first fanfiction soooooooo
I also have this on wattpad if you prefer that setting more.
alright well sorry if it sucks :/
feel free to leave suggestions or corrections!