Sing It Out

*Two Years Later*

Tick tok, tick tok, tick tok goes the seconds closer I grow towards inevitable death. That's the cold, hard hitting fact though isn't it? You're gonna die. Whether you decide to 'live it up' or 'go out with a bang' is up to you. Personally, I couldn't give a shit anymore. It's been two years since I was in the last place I was surrounded by death and tragedy and I couldn't bring myself to be near it again...
I couldn't even bear seeing Gerard again. I haven't seen any of them since that day... The funeral. They never got in contact so I'm guessing they've all just continued on with their lives because nobody actually ever gave a shit, not even my 'boyfriend'. And before you ask me, of course I still love him, I love him more than anything in the world but he's probably got a husband, or a wife, with children and he's making music and doing art and being the successful and achieving person he's always wanted and deserved to be, and if he is, I'm proud of him. I don't really like to think of him, the image of him in my head shoots painful remembrance through my body and makes me want to run to the nearest blade and draw sweet crimson blood from my wrists or anywhere that is left exposed. That's become a habit, not a healthy one and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone else. 

I lay in my shitty, cat pissed stained apartment floor thinking about my past, how fucked up I am blah blah blah and think to myself.
'If you're so fucking miserable, why the fuck are you still here?!' 
That's a very good question brain, thank you for interfering with my sane thoughts, prick. But it actually sparked something in my head. Why am I here?! 
I could be in Gerard's arms, playing my guitar that's long forgotten, probably abandoned in a dump or burnt down, I could be living. But here I am. 

I struggle but manage to wander into my- the landlords bathroom and fling open the cabinet that contained almost everything I needed, toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, enough pills to kill myself-
Wait, what?
My hand unwillingly twitches towards said pills and I hover over them a second. I could end it, right here, right now. 
But do I have the guts?
Probably not

I tumble back out of the bathroom and jump onto the couch that is probably infested with some kind of creature. Oh well. I flick through the channels on the worn down TV before I give up and put the local news on, the place where you find all positive stories- not. 

I listen for a good few hours and just as I'm about to doze off into a not so blissful sleep, something catches my attention, the news is covering music. 
'Local man, Gerard Way- former singer of My Chemical Romance-'
I want to smash the TV as they flick through old photos of us, none recent. 
'Has a new woman on the scene after being apart from his partner and former band member, Frank Iero, for over two years.'
No, the sound of the TV was interrupted by my screaming and cursing. 
"GERARD!" I cried before bursting into a fit of sobs and crys.
When I snapped back into reality, I was in the bathroom, leant against the sink. I looked up to find a face I did not recognise. This face was broken, swollen, destroyed and pale.
This isn't what. Look like is it?! It must be...
Im just a broken man. 

Tap, tap, tap goes the sound of pills on the counter, thirty in total. Nothing is worth it, nobody cares and the best thing...
Nobody will notice. 
I can finally leave without having to think of anyone else, the consequences and feelings. Nothing, I can do this. 
Ten pills are successfully going down my throat consecutively as a bitter taste was left in my mouth yet I still continued to shove the pills of death down my throat. 

Fifteen. 
Sixteen. 
Seventeen..
Eighteen...
Ninteeeen.....

Darkness. 

Notes

Heyooo! Quick update, would you like another one tonight? :)