Save Me From My Self Destruction. (Frerard)

Chapter 15- I'm A Ghost For A Living

I'm A Ghost For A Living.- 

Jealousy is a hell of a drug. I've learned to live with it, sort of, and I have come to the brutal realization that jealousy could seriously fuck someone up. Just the thought of not getting the amount of attention you're used to will rip you into shreds. When someone changes the normal routine, like when they stop telling you goodnight or using that cute nickname they gave you, or whatever it is, you can slowly feel them losing interest in you. It's like you are slowly fading away, becoming invisible all over again. 

I could deal with jealousy, but I could never deal with being invisible. It angered me, made me sad, lost, and unsure. I feel worthless, useless, unimportant, like nothing on Earth matters anymore. There's no cure for the way I feel, and maybe some people could relate to this. Maybe. Maybe there is a whole town filled with other invisible people, maybe I am a resident of this town. 

I lose my voice, interest, and desire to live. Of course I don't tell people this, no one would understand and I feel like I am the most annoying person on the planet. Once, when I decided to- partially- open up to someone, I got told I complained too much, so I decided stay silent. Because maybe being silent is better than stating your feelings. If I say how I feel, I will have to face the judgement of others and the soul crushing fact that they do not understand, because I am all alone. Or, I could stay quiet, where it's me against myself and the world. Which one is honestly worse? 

All of this jealousy and that feeling of being invisible builds up, you know. And that is how I got where I am today, drinking whatever shred of life I have away. All alone, of course. I decided to say fuck it, that perhaps I will not end up trying to kill myself. But if I do, will it really matter anyway? No one cares enough now, so why should they when I am deceased?

I lifted the can back up to my lips and looked at the horizon. I was deep in the woods in this clear patch watching the sunset as I drank. When I lifted the can to my lips I discovered it was empty, annoyed I threw it in the grass, reaching down to my side to pick up a full can. I popped the top open and drank at least a quarter of it down in one go. 

I thought about Frank's suggestion some more. How I should track down my parents. I knew it was a terrible idea, but I couldn't help but wonder what they looked like now, and what would happen if we did meet. I wondered if they still lived in the area and what they were up to. Were they happier now that they weren't tied down with kids? Were they still married or did they divorce? 

Then, I thought about that secret I suspected Frank was holding away from me. He seemed on edge and like he was reserved. Why? I have no idea. My thoughts wondered about every possible scenario but still ended up without a single solution. However, I did come to the soul crushing solution that I would just have to wait it out, until he trusted me enough to tell me. 

However, that didn't stop the overwhelming feeling that had consumed me. This secret he obviously hid from me was consuming my thoughts and it was eating me up inside. I wasn't sure how much more I could take. 

I could feel myself getting drunk off of all of the drinks I had consumed. But it wasn't quite enough for me. I was starting to get so strung out on all of these substances, it was hard to make myself feel alive for once. So without hesitation I grabbed the familiar bag that sat next to me. It was my newly found friend, one that I got attached to admittedly too quick. It was one of my only friends, one I couldn't bare to let go. 

I felt everything sink in, my thoughts, my drinks, this toxic powder, it was making my vision blurry and my mind clouded. I was unable to concentrate and I couldn't get my mind off of Frank. My mind was continuously screaming his name, 'Frank, Frank, FRANK, FRANK!' I couldn't make it stop, each time his name got louder. 

My head pounded in pain and I laughed as I stood up from my spot on the wood's dirty floor. I stumbled around, searching behind trees and looking high and low for the source of the imaginable, nonexistent, sound. I searched, as if Frank would pop out from behind a tree. But he never did, obviously. I was alone, sober Gerard knew this. And soon, drunk Gerard knew too as he slid down with his hands cradling his tear stained face. 

My sobs grew loud and no matter what I thought, no matter how much I tried to convince myself this was all a pointless, useless reaction caused by my downing of drinks. I was a sad, sappy drunk and I knew this. Deep down I knew this would happen if I picked the bottle back up, and now I was paying the price for my actions. I was the one suffering.

Everything went black behind my eyelids and the world seemed to calm down, even my mind stayed silent. Everything went still, and I then began to snore as I fell asleep using the dirt covered leaves as pillows. The wind was acting as my invisible blanket as I shivered through out the night. 

                                                                                  *****

Sunshine. It was the first thing that I saw when I woke up the next morning, killing my throbbing head from my hangover. I was bent over in pain, holding my shaken up stomach and failing as I tried to soothe my pounding head. 

The sun wasn't too bright, it was actually cloudy outside. The appearance of the sky led me to the conclusion that it would rain sometime throughout the day. I groaned as I picked up every single empty bottle and can and stuffed the bag of my favorite powder in my pocket. 

I felt like I was going to vomit, and I soon started to regret my decisions. I, of course, missed the alcohol and how it made me feel in the moment. However, I didn't miss the hangovers one bit, I didn't miss the nauseous feeling I had in my stomach and the migraine that killed my head after awaking. But through it all, even with the pain I was currently suffering, I knew I wouldn't be able to quit. Not for a second time, so I guess I would have to learn how to manage and live with the consequences. 

I stumbled around, this time sober as it began to rain. It was like God himself was punishing me for the sin I had committed. My greasy hair was sticking to my forehead and face from the rain. My dark locks of hair almost covered my eyes and the rain blurred my vision. 

However, soon I realized it wasn't rain that was blurring my vision. As the droplets slid down and hit my lips I had recognized that salty taste from anywhere. They were my own tears. Why was I crying? Regret? Destruction? I had no clue at the time. 

I didn't bother walking back to the foster facility, I doubt anyone had noticed my night long absence. Instead, I walked to Frank's house with the empty cans in my hands, cocaine and weed in my pockets, rain in my hair, and tears staining my face once more. I just wanted to see his face, hear his voice, feel his touch again. 

I knocked once. Twice. Three times, until he answered. He swung the door open with a yawn, rubbing his pale face and pink rimmed eyes. His hair was a mess, he was shirtless, sporting a pair of maroon colored boxers. I had woken him up, I didn't even know what time it was. But there he was, awake, in front of me, and looking adorable. 

"Gerard? What are you doing here?" He said in a groggy manner. His eyes cut a glance to the objects in my hands, "Oh." He said in response to those empty, silent, cans in my hands. I cut a glance at them myself, wishing they would disappear, wishing I would have thrown them out before arriving. 

"You're soaked, why don't you come inside and take a warm shower?" He opened the door more, moving to the right so I could walk inside. I followed him as he walked down a hallway and entered what I guessed to be his bedroom. 

I've been to Frank's house a couple of times, maybe two or three, but I've never stepped foot into his bedroom. I sort of was excited to see his room, just exactly how he had set it up. I wondered what was behind that wooden door, would it portray his personality in any way?

As Frank opened the door to grant me entry into his bedroom my heart pounded in my chest as I shivered from being so damn cold. Frank must have heard my teeth chattering or heard me making some sort of noise to indicate that I was cold, because before he walked in he turned my way and wrapped his short arms around my body. His embrace was refreshing and warm. I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks as I wrapped my arms around him. We just stood there and hugged, and for a moment, I felt a little less invisible.