Peroxide (Peterick)

corn meal for the holidays

I've been tossed into the pit of death and spat back out, and I'm clear in saying that this whole ordeal is more troubling than I would've thought.

Yes, not knowing whether your surroundings are real or not is a very dangerous experience, in addition to having the aforementioned surroundings teeming with hollowed skulls and the stench of decay, but the worst part about this is that I'm not certain that this reality is any better than my dream, because in my dream we had already gotten the news over with, but now my friends and I wait in the lobby of a hospital that gives zero fucks about anything other than Pete's body, and we're scared shitless at the possibilities of what could happen to him.

Everyone around is retains just the same apprehension, and some are about to be relieved of it, whether that's upon discovering that their friend is fine or discovering that their friend is dead or some other tragedy that never leaves. Even through this, I don't know the slightest thing about any one of them, even though we're mourning in the same position, and they don't know the slightest thing about me, and we have that in common, so while many people think that they're unique, we're all just the same humans destined for devastation, and those small details only contribute to how hard the fall will be. It doesn't really matter that I don't know anything about these people, because we'll all be dead before we hit the ground.

Even Gerard and Lindsey and Frank and Dallon and Ryan and Brendon and everyone with me don't know everything about my identity, as I don't know everything about their identity, and maybe it should stay that way, because no one wants to be heartbroken when they can't hold someone's hand while falling. It's more destructive like that, but I'm already being destructed by the anticipation of Pete's status regarding his declining health.

He doesn't deserve to die, and I realize that many people will say that over the span of their career in some sort of Christian dialogue, but Pete is everything pure in this world, everything pure that isn't perfect yet supplies the definition with authority, because purity isn't about being perfect, rather trooping through your faults, and it's okay that Pete was struggling, because that's how it goes with someone like him, yet someone like him is still pure and radiant and everything that I needed, but he's fucking gone, and now my head is in my hands, and Gerard is trying his best to comfort me amidst the chaos raging inside my mind, and it's not fucking enough for what I need. It's will never be enough, because what I need is Pete Wentz, and he is simply not here.

I'll search for him, then.

"I'm going to see Pete," I decide, not once looking back at my friends populating the chairs beside me.

"Have the doctors let you in?" Ryan asks, articulating a motherly tone that would usually be awarded to Lindsey, but she's busy reading a magazine while she stresses about the outcome of Pete's health.

Beginning to shuffle forward, a quip is trussed to my acerbic demeanor towards these circumstances. "Do you think the doctor's approval is imperative to me?"

Ryan shakes his head timidly, and I set off to locate my boyfriend, which goes better than I would've suspected, as I unearth his hospital room fairly quickly and step towards the window of the door to find a soporific Pete Wentz with a book bonded between his fingers, which he drowsily relinquishes upon seeing the doctor who has made her way into her room before I could snare a chance to.

They're conversing quite pleasantly, more so than Pete ever would've conversed with anyone else, and that leads me to believe that he's somehow not himself in this moment, that he's either damaged from the hypothermia or traumatized by revealing his true persona, and I want to help — I really do — but how will I explain my presence here? If Pete's not himself, who's to say that he'll allow me in?