Save Me From My Self Destruction. (Frerard)

Chapter 1- Keep Your Head Down, Maybe You'll Survive.

 Keep Your Head Down, Maybe You'll Survive. :

I sat on the floor Indian style, staring at the maroon colored walls. I couldn't help but think that walls resembled blood; imagining white walls being splattered and covered in someone's blood that once pumped through their veins. It was a rather disturbing thought to say the least, but I'm Gerard, did you expect any less?

I was currently suffering a migraine as well as being light-headed and dizzy. If one didn't know any better they'd think I was either in the middle of a terrible hangover or in the middle of a nice high from drugs. But I was experiencing neither, I was being nicotine deprived. Which, in my opinion if it matters, is worse.

It wasn't just the nicotine I craved, it was the feel of a cigarette between my stubby fingers, the smoke that surrounded me and made me feel at home, the smell, the relaxation, the thought of coating my precious lungs with tar and countless other deadly chemicals or some shit.

But as I sat here, unable to feed my craving, I was falling back into stress and felt uncomfortable in my own skin. Maybe it was the simple fact that I was unwanted.

And before you even think that I am some sympathy seeking psychopath who only seeks drugs and thinks about blood covered walls, I'm not. I wasn't exactly depressed or a depressing person, or maybe I was and just never noticed. Probably the second one, but there was a reasonable explanation for the unwanted feeling that washed over me on a daily basis.

I was clearly unwanted for awhile, as my parents dropped me and my little brother off at some sort of adoption center/ foster clinic, whatever you wanted to call the damned place. We were too young to even comprehend what was happening, I was told I was staying with nice people until my parents returned for me. Mikey was only a baby, I was only 4 years old.

I could never explain to Mikey why our parents didn't want us, I could never answer his questions, it hurt me to hear the words "Gerard, why do they have parents but we don't?" Every time he saw another kid walk by with their parents. We never speak of our parents, we don't speak of anything that relates to family because we are all we have.

But I remember. My mother had blonde hair, my dad had brown hair, I could remember the look in my mother's eyes, her voice, almost everything. But as years went by, 12 years to be exact, I learned that the best thing to do was never think about my parents. They clearly weren't thinking about me, I wasn't worth their time so why should they be worth mine?

I used to sit on the adoption center steps, where I lived, every single day waiting for them to return. I would write letters, keep all of my clothes in a suitcase just in case, I would tell Mikey that maybe our parents got lost. But when Mikey turned 2 and I was 6, I gave up. After 2 horrid years, my young mind realized that they were never returning for me.

Maybe I was a failed abortion, maybe I was a horrible child, maybe they wanted a daughter instead, I didn't know. But I was fed up with waiting, I was tired of feeling unwanted, so I stopped caring about them.

I took a lock of my greasy black hair and twisted it around between my fingers. I've been sitting here for at least half an hour, I wanted to be smoking right now, but apparently the people who run the place don't take kindly to 16 year olds who smoke. They don't even let me drink coffee, which was pretty fucked up.

"Eat your veggies, be nice to everyone, do your homework, don't set fire to anything, read the bible, smile at every single thing you see" was my daily lecture by everyone in the place. I was raised to be a cookie-cutter child, one of those boring do good people who enjoy watching the grass grow.