If Only You Knew What Went On In My Head

I hate that moment when you wake up in the middle of a daydream and don’t know where the hell you are or what year it is. I searched around the room with my eyes, and noticed all these people sitting in desks by mine. The lot of them were wearing these nitpick white sweaters with these microscopic-looking logos of our school. Each of them had these judgmental eyes too, ones that really tear you apart. I started feeling sore as hell, and the teacher had come to break the ice.

She asked me what I was doing for the summer, but in a different way. I remember the words pretty clear, and they went along the lines as “Gerard Arthur Way, what will you be applying yourself to”—and crap like that. I kind of grinned at her, but she gave me this foul expression, as if she wanted me to say something worthwhile. She obviously didn’t want the truth, I could tell.

“I’m going to go by horseback by the creek, and then I’ll have tea with the queen,” I replied sarcastically. “Then I’ll get a car and drive all the way to damn England, overseas, yeah. Then I’ll hang in the queen’s suites and get to meet a bunch of famous people. Maybe I’ll win a million dollars along the way.”

The teacher’s clothes were supposed to be worn by a younger person, and the buttons seemed to be popping out on that pink jacket of hers. She tapped at these unnatural blonde locks and adjusted her glasses. Boy, did she take a long time to reply.

“Marvelous goals, I presume?”

If I ever hated a word more than any other one, it’d be marvelous. I swear I could’ve puked, I should’ve, too. Then I’d be out of school early, and I wouldn’t have to see this superficial woman ever again. I remembered that she asked a question, so I sort of nodded her a quick ‘yeah’ and looked down to my desk.

The truth was, I was going to go to an art school in California. I was going to learn and draw and paint and do stuff that I enjoy. And, maybe, I’d stay in California. I’ve lived there from when I was seven to when I was twelve and moved back to Belleville just after that. Now I’m fifteen, and New Jersey hasn’t changed much. The same music shop was by the corner, the same billboards for dentistry. Goddammit, even that ridiculous man tap-dancing randomly across the avenue was still tapping his way along the city.

Mikey would’ve loved coming back here, even with all these bastards in the school. I mean, I hadn’t heard from him after we split. I heard his chemotherapy was going well, but he hadn’t contacted me since long ago.

And that was his third time on chemo.

The topic got me depressed so I started to draw little triangles on my paper. I like doing that once in a while, drawing, because it got old Mikes off my mind sometimes.


And still, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about Mikes. I started to wonder if this cancer was hereditary or something, knowing that my dad passed from it and my mom passed from her dilemma, which wasn’t cancer, but still very severe. I had my uncle a couple months ago until he got called into a draft. A couple other family members passed too, but they didn’t care for me much, anyways.

I got this sudden feeling that I’d be getting it too. I mean, hereditary cancer is pretty rare, like rarer than an albino dolphin. I really want to see an albino dolphin, I really do.Anyways, I could be getting cancer. Probably lung cancer, Mikey was diagnosed with it a couple times, with one of those breathing masks covering their faces. My dad, incidentally, passed from breast cancer, his face painted like a skeleton by yours truly.

The goddam bell interrupted my thoughts, and I threw my lousy books into my old bag. The teacher grinned wide and all, with this pathetic wave. She wouldn’t miss us, and I sure as hell wouldn’t miss her.

I could hear giggles of laughter and cheer, which made me smile just a little. Just enough to get me through the hallway and into the lobby, where constant shouts of “faggot” and “orphan” filled the place. This followed with “goth” and “punk”, and a frequent, “misfit”. I frowned, but I don’t respond. If I needed to, I’d use my scrawny fists.


The whole thing got depressing again, so I decided to chew the fat with a couple kids, asking them where they’d be going. I started with the smart, scholar girls, the “nerds” as the cool kids call them. The first girl, her name was Wendy. She had this brown buzz cut that made her seem like a jock from the back. But her face was light and sweet, these piercing blue eyes that tore you apart.

The other scholar girls were on their phones or something, so Wendy and I were just talking about school and everything, and summer.

“I’m taking technology classes in another state, it’s going to be really fun,” I loved that she wasn’t fake about what she was going to do. I damn near wished we were going to the same area. Out of curiosity, I asked her.

“No way, me too, maybe we can hang out sometime!” she exclaimed. “If you’re not busy with your lovelife.”

“What?” I made this ‘pfft’ sound with my lips. “I’ll have you know, I’ll be taking art classes.”

“Yeah, right,” Wendy rolled her eyes and grabbed at my phone, doing something to it.

“It’s locked, smartass,” I smirked.

“Yeah, but I can go around it. I’ll just punch my number in,” she took her time and handed it back. “Wendy is now in your contact list, Gerard.”

“I’m not good with friends, Wendy. Like, I lose them all the time. They never work,” I shrugged. “I mean, you’ll be sorry you even talked to me. I’m nothing like you, I’m a loser.”

“You were born to lose, I was born to use, so what? Plus, you need some advice to impress a guy,” Wendy laughed. “Even if you don’t want me, I’ll be a good friend and track you down.”

“How…sincere of you,” I sort of smirked, but in a sarcastic way. Wendy waved enthusiastically and jumped into a yellow bus.

My parents came by to pick me up, so I stepped inside their blue car with an interesting smell I will never get used to. I sigh and watch air get thicker and moister. In a few minutes, rain pours. Childishly, I watch two drops of rain run down the window, as if it was a race. I cheered for the slower one.

Notes

I am starting a new story because I feel stuck on my other one :/
should I continue this story?