the rant book

Dear Frank Iero (Seriously this time)

This is a draft, could you guys tell me what you think if it? It's pretty personal but I dig you guys, I need you to tell me what you think so I can revise it and such.

One real fucking cool thing about The White Stripes is how they have this way of making me want to try things, new things; like writing letters.

Like this one in particular.

My name is Miranda, I'll be seventeen on December fourth and I live in Kenosha. I love horror. (My favorite scary movie is The Visit, I love Steven King, the news and haunted houses.)

I actually just saw you Chicago this year at the Metro. I had been meaning to give you this letter then, but things fell through.

But that's some shit about me.

And while this is written solely because I want to thanks, it's also a part of my yearly cathartic purge. (Because on a scale of one to icy reptilian shitbag, I'm an eleven.)

It's late at night and while I wish I could write to you when my mind was clearer and less hectic, I don't think I'd have as much nerve as I do to even write this. I wish I was kidding.

I'm secretly hoping, if you don't appriceate the rawness if my words, you could at least be humored by it.

Sorry if you end up doing neither of those things. I just haven't ever spoken to someone I've looked up to before, on account of a. I don't really have role models because a lot of people just end up letting me down and b. those that haven't are dead and no amount of necromancy could bring them back... Not that I'd want them to, there's always that off-handed chance that they'll end up jumping rope with my intestines.

And no one wants that.

I know I don't.

So, now comes the part where I talk about how you've impacted my life. And you really have.

A since my Freshman year of highschool a lot of people I knew pulled the lever to their ejection seat.

Which is fine, I learned from a young age never to get too attached or I'll end up kicking the shit out of myself by proxy.

It got hard when the one's who did break down the forth wall died, I guess. I acted okay for a while actually, it was scary how normal I was, but it just took the death of the two who raised me to crack my bones. I stopped eating, I started turning to self destructive habits and I eventually just sorta turned into this shell of what I was.

I turned to terrible people who ended up figuratively twisting my arm around my back and pushing me into a dark place.
And it's sad that it took me seventeen years to realize that the scariest monsters can be the ones that tuck you into bed or kiss your forehead and say ‘I love you’.

I started wondering to myself if I even mattered, if any of this even mattered... And I turned my back on so many people. Maybe in the end I just was insecure, I never wanted people to see my scars because I worked so hard to make this spotless image of myself.

I don't know why I didn't realize sooner that we aren't all marble gods, it's okay to fuck up.

That's when I rediscovered you and guitar.

In spite of it all.

You used to scare me. Not gonna lie. When I was little, I would sit with my brother and watch videos with him that had members from his favorite band that you were a guitarist in.

You went so hard, could you blame me?

And then fast forward to my sophomore year when a friend if mine showed me your band. I was like woah what?

I was unsure what to think at first, I remembered you, but I didn't really know you. That's not even to say that I do now. We've never met.

But it was one of those nights. It was raining so hard. I couldn't sleep because my head was on fire with all the things I tried not to remember and then your music came on and weighed me back down to the floor.

I don't know if that makes any sense but, you were the first person I had been able to relate to internally. My anxieties and doubts seemed to be already written in your lyrics and it was the most relieving thing I think.

Just kinda not being the only one who was drowning in bullshit.

I started learning how to play guitar afterwards, I was really inspired to do it. And it helped me a lot. It was a good outlet for all the pent up vibes I needed to shake off.

Thank you.

You didn't save my life, because that was something I had to do myself, you woke me up; got me out of my cycle of negativity and I'm really fucking grateful honestly.

Without even meeting me, you got me. And without ever psychically being there- you were still there, you were in the things I did. And that helped make me a healthier person.

And there will never be a word strong enough or a sentence well strung together to really tell you how fucking awesome I think you are.