Save Me

*warning!* don't read if you are extra sensitive to suicidal thoughts!
I woke up the next day, quite the same as how I always do, however today my mood was a little sourer due to the previous day's interactions sabotaging my only chance at happiness right from the start.
I guess other than that though, the day dragged on normally until right after school had ended when the usually bully that I hadn't actually seen in a few days, Jack, and his crew decided to say hi.
"Hey emo," I cringed at the use of the word again. Why with all the labeling? Call me hipster (Wow, Gerard, contradict yourself much?), but I really don't like it when people label. "What, you can't talk, faggot?" oh even better. Thanks Mr. Douchebag.
What do my skinny jeans really give away my sexuality that easily? Well then fuck you too.
Some bullshit writer said bullying people because they were gay was a because of their homophobia, like homophobia was actually a phobia. It's not. It's because they had asshole parents raise an asshole kid and not teach him something as simple morals.
Now I'm not saying that I want this Jack kid to spontaneously forget all of his problems with me and become my super-duper bestest friend ever, but geez a little respect would be nice. Or at least just leave the people with whom you have problems with alone.
Unfortunately, I didn't get to finish that mental debate due to the fact that one of Jack's monkeys shoved me against the row of lockers. How did everyone else even get out of the school so fast? Can no one tell I'm in need of some assistance?
"Oh, Gerard can't use his words?" they taunted. I remained quiet, looking down at my feet and fidgeting with my fingers until they forced my jaw up, squishing my lower face together.
"Now's the time when you kiss me, Honey." I probably shouldn’t have said that.
They weren't amused. Geez guys get a sense of humor.
Mr. Steroids decided that it would, however, be funny to throw me down on the ground and kick me out of the way of my back pack. Ouch! That one's gonna leave a mark. I grabbed at my bag but being that my reflexes aren't as fast as these dumb jocks', I was too slow. They ripped it open and dumped the contents out all over the tiled floor and kicked them around.
My face probably looked apathetic towards all this as I picked myself off the ground however my mind was a mess of paranoia and sassy comebacks I was too scared to say.
I could tell they were getting bored with my lack of reaction, so they ended this nice chat we were having with a few hits to the eyes, arms, and abdomen. At this I tried to resist but it was useless as two of them were holding me back so Jack could do his dirty work. They finally left with pushing me down once again, a spit to my face, and one more goodbye with those awful words in it to explain themselves: "Emo fags like you need to be taught a lesson, maybe we'll see ya again tomorrow, princess."
'Kids can be so cruel' I thought while rubbing my neck and examining the damage.
Is this self-pity I'm committing or are my thoughts actually worthy of such despair?
My face probably mimicked my troubled mind but I didn’t let myself cry, I couldn’t do that in such a public place, although there is no one around....
At least that's what I thought until I heard footsteps approaching this very hallway with a timid voice placing "Gerard?" in the air.
I tried to calm myself down and gather my things before Frank found me but I wouldn't be able to hide the bruises that are starting to form at my face and arms. Damn that's sore. My grief mutated into anger as I thought about how unfair life was being.
"Gerard! What happened?" he inquired, running towards me after his discovery.
I didn't even bother answering that.
He just sighed and whispered, "oh, Gee," while helping me pick up my things. Once we got that settled I started walking to the door, but he stopped me.
"I started walking home but you weren't there," he explained. I think he was about to say more but I couldn't help myself, I had to interrupt.
"Oh, it's not like it would've made a difference; you don't want to talk to me anymore anyway!" I spat. I kind of felt bad for putting my aggression on him, but I just couldn't hold it back. I was angry and depressed and confused and I couldn't handle pretending to be fine like there's nothing wrong anymore.
He was hurt, I could tell, and I felt even worse about it but I didn't take it back, I'm still looking for an explanation as to why he's been acting so weird. "Why Frankie, what did I do?" I asked.
"Nothing!" he insisted, paranoia washing over his face. "God- Gerard you didn't do anything wrong of course I still want to talk to you, I just.... I can't tell you! Please- just- I'm trying to figure stuff out."
Well that wasn't that such a satisfying answer.
I think I just ended up looking more hurt than before.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"No, Frank, I'm half left," I answered, obviously annoyed, and started walking away once more. I tried putting in my headphones but of course he didn't give up that easily. I just resisted his apologies over and over again until I finally pushed him a little too hard and he lost his balance, falling to the ground. I don't think he was hurt but it was enough to get him to not get up, thus not follow me.
And I felt awful as I finally walked home in peace because he had this miserable expression on his face, and I know I was being unreasonable, but I just couldn't stand being in the presence of anyone at the moment. I ended up sprinting the rest of the way home, ignoring my backpack bouncing uncomfortably against my shoulders, as my head flooded with thoughts telling me of how awful a person I am and reminding me of how awful a world I live in.
And there was one thought in particular that stood out. For the first time I actually did think about it in considering way instead of just an interested way.
And then I started crying for the first time in forever because I had made up my mind and the hopelessness was overwhelming.
When I got to my house I locked the door behind me, knowing that no one would be home for hours, what with my parents working and Mikey actually having a social life today, and ran to the basement, looking for the tool my dad used when he took me hunting such a long time ago. In sad triumph of finding it, I meandered back up the stairs and up to my room with the worst, twisted feeling in my stomach because it would all be over after this. No more. Maybe it was supposed to be sad, but to me it was comforting.
The hot tears never stopped streaming down my face as I wrote a note in shaky hands that simply said "I'm sorry" and placed it in my front pocket so it was halfway sticking out. I decided to go into the bathroom because it would be less of a mess to clean up and laid down in the tub bracing myself and slowly lifting the gun up to my temple.
I almost couldn't do it. I thought about how my mom and dad and Mikey would feel when they saw me, or frank when he found out, but it didn't quite change my mind as I thought about the empty, energy-straining life ahead filled with my monster mind draining me of my sanity every day. I just know I won’t be able to help anything.
My finger grasped the trigger, my eyes glazed over, and then black.

Notes

Okay obviously this isn't over. what kind of story would that be?
I promise this has a happy ending if you are willing to stay til the end.
also, if you or anyone else you know is suffering from depression or is just plain sad, get them help, or get yourself help, sometimes it's nice to wallow in your own sadness alone, I totally get that, but sometimes it's nice to talk about it too.
alright, bye!