Modern Empathy ~ a Patrick Stump Fanfiction

Heart Piercing

February 28, 2012

It was film screening night for my creative writing class and the video production class. I collaborated with junior Stella Baulisch, and we both hugged and high-fived afterwards.

"Oh, Zoey, thank you for being a good writer!" she said. "We wouldn't have won if it wasn't for you."

"It's my pleasure, Stella." I said. "And by the way, I don't have a ride home. My sister Emily is working, Amber has a stomach bug, and Taylor can't drive. Do you, by any chance, have a license or a car?"

"Yes, I can. I remember your sisters. I'll call them to see if it's okay with them."

When Stella got off the phone with Amber, she said, "I can."

"Great."

I managed to get back home safely. Getting out of her car, Stella said, "See you tomorrow. I had fun tonight. Goodnight."

"You, too!" I said walking out.

Getting ready for bed, I heard my phone vibrate. It was the Rolling Stone app, and it posted something about Patrick Stump. I opened it to see what it was. They were talking about something he posted on his blog.

When I opened his blog post he had just posted not even an hour ago, it said "We Liked You Better Fat: Confessions of a Pariah." It seemed like nothing I thought he'd ever post before. I knew what the word "pariah" meant.

I remembered last December when Patrick telling me he was having a hard time. When he talked about drinking after a breakup long ago, I felt like somewhere in my chest was being slightly punctured with a needle.

He was also talking about the same things he told me about—that awful experience he had touring without his band mates. I loved Soul Punk so much, and reading about it broke my heart for a second time.

Reading the article's entirety, before I reacted and shut off all my apps, I looked and looked all over the internet.

Sure enough, it was true. There were some comments that were quite insensitive, but mostly, to the light of that, I could also see comments from real fans who were feeling it for Patrick just like me. They sounded like they were all worrying, crying, panicking and puking.

It was almost time for me to get to bed. I had been planning to go to bed early on school nights so that I could get enough sleep.

I couldn't get any sleep despite the melatonin. My eyes were widened open.

What could I do to get myself sleeping? I was worrying and panicking, but nothing could come out from my eyes.

I lowered the volume on my stereo as quietly as I could hear it, played What a Catch, Donnie and cried, burying my face into my pillow until I fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up at six. I was hugging onto my neckroll pillow, not wanting to get up. I needed to cuddle. I felt so tendered up.

I fell asleep again, to wake up at six-fifty and realize I had to get ready for school.

I really wanted to continue comforting Patrick and helping him feel better. At least in my imagination.

Oh, well. Maybe I could vent about it to my school friends.