I Want To Be A Star In The Night Sky.

There are so many stars in the sky,and just the thought that some of them are already dead is almost frightening. Sitting on the roof at night and look at them until you can't stand awake anymore is almost magic. For most of people at least,not for everyone.
Some people might find it romantic,looking at the stars and moon,thinking about your loved one. Others look up at them in hope,like they could give you answers in hard times of your life.
They can also provide inspiration to artists,there is always something that sparks in their soul when the look at them.
Others pray at them,talking to whichever god they believe in,praying for a protection.
They look at them for studies,they observe their activities,constellations and other planets,collecting information for future generation of astrologist and projects that may come true.
And others look at them when they are sad,like they were a refuge far away but still there every night,like something they could always come to like a best friend made of fire.
And obviously,the one who fantasies to become one of them,in hopes to escape a world they would rather leave or escape, they want to become the stardust in the void between them.

Just like me,I just wanted to die and shine with them,or maybe I only wanted to disapear from this planet,where I was just another burden between the people.
I always come to the roof of my house,by the window of my bedroom. I would say there and smoke,looking up at the shiny dots over my head and the moon.
Sometimes the sky have clouds and I can only see the moon shining behind them and I would laugh at how pathetic she would look like.
Other times,it would rain,snow or be windy,but I didn't care at all,I always climbed up to my favorite spot,look up at them and smoke.
I would look at them and ask things to myself and them,I used to say that they are so many stars in the sky,why they seemed to fall on me even thought they are so far away from here,why I was even here,I asked that maybe I was blind and the world always gave me signs that it never wanted me,why would my mother look at me so sadly at me sometimes,why everyone laughed at me even thought I never did anything wrong,because maybe I was the wrong thing in the world. Why was I unlovable when I could love,why was I so weak,so tiny,why I would never feel like I was myself,why did I have to exist. With the time,the answers came,my mom got mad and screamed I was only a mistake,I have a really bad health and got sick a lot when I was a baby and most of my childhood went in a hospital,people laughed at me because I was simply pathetic and they have been better off without me here,I felt like death was a pleasure a couldn't afford myself because I was to weak to end myself,no one loved me because I was full of flaws or at least that's what I heard from everyone. I obviously believed it,I know it could be all a big lie,but there are way to many reasons to prove my useless existence,that was the reason of why I never felt like I was myself,because I wasn't even supposed to have a self,if I even used that word right.
I have no reasons to keep going,to keep faith,to be alive. I kind of always been like this,since I was a kid,I was always sick,I've always felt like I couldn't do much things i wanted,and my mom would always be disapointed about something I did. It got worse obviously,but now I stopped questioning myself about everything,I was just a black spot on a white clean shirt,I had to go away at some point.

I never recurred to self harm,it was useless,it wouldn't help me,I would just have ugly marks on my skin,that's why I got tattoos instead,they hurt when you get them,but the result is always beautiful,it was a pain I loved to feel. Needles breaking my skin,leaving lines of inks to create a painful artwork. I had them all over my body,I got them a few years ago,I was supposed to wait until my eighteenth birthday,but why? Why wait so long? I was eighteen now,and I had my first tattoo at sixteen. My mother got pissed at me,as well as the man who was my temporary father back then,they both screamed all kind of awful things I already knew about myself. I felt bad for upsetting my mother like that,but I couldn't bring myself to care,I know she loves me,I'm her son after all,blood of her blood,flesh of her flesh,but I just didn't.
She gave up at the fourth tattoo,and stopped complaining,my step father was gone,she had other things to care about.

I then tried to kill myself. Several time,to be honest. The first time was when I was on the roof looking at the stars,I got up and jumped. I broke a leg and two fingers,they thought I must have slipped and fall,I let them believe that lie. The second time was when I was cooking in the kitchen,i cuted my wrist with the meat knife,they again thought it was an accident. Just another lie. I know I said I never cuted myself,but I swear that was the only time I did,I got a tattoo to hide,it says "I wish I were a ghost". Every night I would look at the stars and ask why wouldn't they let me die,I wanted to go with them or go wherever I had to go when I died. I then tried to hang myself,but I had a really bad timing,my mother came back early and found me. I remember I woke up in the hospital and for the first time of what felt like my whole life I cried. I never cried this hard before,I let it all out. I screamed all my hate to the world,I screamed all my sadness,I screamed at my stars,everything happen in a month,three tries in a month,and I didn't stopped there,I was desesperate now.
My mom paid me session with a psychiatrist,I got meds, I was supervised most of the time at home. At school I was treated like a freak and with pity,I hated it,now they cared after years of torture,was what I thought? I got worse because of it,they treated me like a was a crystal glass that could break with anything too rough. Of course I had enough and punched a girl who wouldn't leave me alone a second,she was one of them,one of the people who used to laugh at me. She screamed that I was an ungrateful piece of crap and I screamed all the horrible things she did to me,and if I did this it was her fault,I screamed her truth,and to the ones who tried to defend her,I knew everyone secrets,years of silence now out. They took me home after I got beaten by some guys after the drama,I didn't cared,I told what needed to be told.
And I tried once again three days after that,I tried to drown in my bathtub with a plastic bag around my head and neck. I got caught again. I was locked in the psych ward of the hospital until they thought I was stable again-three months- and in that period of time,I finally celebrated my seventeenth birthday,the only happy days in my life.
I was born the 31 of October,which meant I was born at Halloween,and I got all the candies I wanted and I could fake another me with a disguise. I did it,but that day I tried again. It was midnight and it tried to asphyxiate myself with the candie by swallowing them whole all at once. My chokes woke up my mother and I went back to the hospital,and then back to the psych ward. This time I took longer to get out,six month to exact,because I tried to die there too,and I was in suicide watch,how ironic,right? I tied my bed sheets around my neck and thightening it until I couldn't breath,which was stupid because I knew I wouldn't work.
When I got out,I tried to really take my meds and follow my new psychiatrist advices. It worked for time,I truly felt better,I even got friends. My mom and I were happier,I loved to be a small part of what made he smile. She was glad I was finally home and feeling better,I was too,but deep down I was scared,I was scared because felt bad for so long that now I was scared to be fine. So I went to the roof to consult the stars and moon,they were gorgeous that night,it rained all day since we were in September and the time was getting chilly-I got out of the psych ward in April,if you wondered- so they were shining at their best and the moon was almost full,and after months,I cried again. During all those months I've been lying to myself and i knew it,wasn't getting better,I was getting worse. I was killing myself mentally and emotionally,I was just faking and I hated it,oh how much I hated it.
And i slowly got back to my old habits,but renewed. I barely slept,eat,I stopped taking my pills and talking to my friends,my grades went down I skipped school days. I got more of my beloved tattoos,upsetting my mom again,I began to smoke and get wasted drinking. I laughed at the only girl who ever wanted to date me,I laughed at her face saying how pathetic she was to choose me,how much I would hurt her. She ran away crying,I didn't fucking care. I stayed up all nights looking at the stars,talking to them like they were real people,cursing at them,laughing with them. I wanted to be like them,care free and shining bright and up in the night sky. I wanted it more than ever. When my birthday came around again,I closed my eyes. My body was weak from my lack of food,it would soon gave up on me,I knew it,I laid there,letting silent tears run out of my eyes,I now really gave up,this time I knew I won't get out from what i am underneath,I touched the deep end.

I'm eighteen now,since five months ago. Since my birthday I didn't open my mouth once,only to smoke or drink,I got out more on my own,I stopped going to school,I was barely home and when I was,I sat on the roof looking at the stars. My hair was longer,to my shoulders,I liked it that way,I got ride of my piercings and stopped trying to kill myself,I was waiting for what I thought was the right time. My favorite place was the bridge,I had a wonderful view of the night sky there,I loved this place. It wasn't really high,but enough to scare people from jumping.
I went outside today hopping the sun would burn my face,hopping I would feel something,but I was completely numb. I sat most of the day on the bridge,my pack of cigarettes at one side and a whiskey bottle on another. I was smiling for once,while I was writing a letter to my mom. I finished writing and waited,for what? Night. I sat there for hours until I could finally see the moon high in the sky I smiled widely at her,she was beautiful and bright and full next to the little shining stars over bright city lights. There is not a cloud,and for the first time in my life,I felt in peace. I felt free,I felt alive and happy. I knew it was time now. I took my bottle of pills,and swallowed them all with the whiskey,I slipped the letter underneath the empty bottle as I put it down,I take off my jacket and threw it aside and I got,my feet balancing me near the border and I began to sing,sing with all I have,with my lungs,the same song over and over again until I felt so dizzy I could barely support myself up. And I start to laugh,weakly as I turn my back to the river and open my arms widely at my sides and slurred the lyrics of my song again until my legs gave up and everything around me was a blur. I fall backwards to the river as I closed my eyes,with the stars as my last memories and "please,don't go" as my mom last words to me.
I lose consciousness,a wide smile on my lips as my last feel is my body hitting the cold water. Then everything is just blackness and happiness.

My name is Frank Iero,I am eighteen years old,and I am finally free with my beloved stars.

Notes

Please don't hate me.
I was listening to Frank new album on YouTube and this song,Guilttripping caught my attention(is my favorite song of the whole album,but I love every godamn song) so I listened to it in repeat until this came out. The song don't talk about suicide,but my mind made this up and I HAD to write it or I would die.
I recommend you to listen to the song while reading,it sets in the mood and it's really good.

I apologize again for this,I hope it wasn't to sad. It may have a sequel if I find time to write it once I start school again.

see ya guys,tell me what you thought about this in the comments,it's my first time writing this kind of things and I'm curious to know if I got right.

bye~

xxx