Relax, Relapse (Ryden)

Three (Brendon)

What's the point?

Adults always say they want you to be yourself. But when you are yourself, they hate you for it. They tell you to embrace who you are, but when who you are is different from who they are, you're "too young to decide". They tell you to stand up for what you believe in until what you believe in is different from what they believe in. So what's the point?

I should be dead right now. They should've had a funeral for me and I should be six feet under with a tombstone that says something like,"Brendon Boyd Urie, April 12, 1987-November 1, 2004. We loved him all his life until he told us he was bi. Now he's burning in hell".

But I'm not. Yay. Now I get to be rejected all over again. I get to be told I'm not worth my parents' time, that I'm an embarrassment to the family, that God hates me. You know, I thought God's whole deal was not hating anyone. Guess everything I learned in Sunday school was wrong.

I didn't even want to tell them in the first place. They heard me serenading Ryan and Spencer and Brent with that really old Green Day song at a band practice and then I was intensely interrogated. They asked me whether my bandmates knew something they didn't. My bi-ness just kind of slipped out.

I was called a lot of names. Sinner. Confused. Greedy, to name a few. "You can't like both, you have to choose". "God says homosexuality is an abomination".

Really, the only reason they didn't kick me out right then and there was because I recited some other Bible verse about providing for your family. But they may as well have disowned me, the way they treated me. If they weren't viciously insulting me at every given opportunity, they were pretending I didn't exist. And my siblings weren't any better. I was stuck and I couldn't see any other way out.

I guess if I'm still alive, there is no way out. It's not like taking a bunch of antidepressants in the back of your parents' car while Longview plays in the background is going to endear you to them. Like, why did I choose pills and a car? "Slipping" out on the railroad tracks would've been a lot easier and with more certain results.

Oh, right. The railroad tracks don't have a place to leave goodbye notes.

I wonder if Ryan's read his yet. If he has, good. Then he knows just how much he means to me. If he hasn't, he probably blames himself. That's just how Ryan is when bad things happen; he'll always find some way to take responsibility. Most of the time he had nothing to do with any of it. Like this time.

What am I going to say to him the next time I see him? Ryan, you've been a good friend and all, but I have depression and ADHD and my family hates me? I don't want to tell him what he already knows. He's seen the self-harm scars and the little blue pills.

Eh, I'll just sing to him.