Mr. Armstrong (Complete)

The Jesus of Suburbia was a Lie

"It's gonna be okay Billie, we have each other and I love you, don't forget that,"  Mike's words rang in my ear. I knew he meant what he said, but I am fucking done with everything. I'm a slut, an attention whore. A 35-year-old slut who begs for attention from his seventeen-year-old students. I'm a fucking slut! My mom is right. I would probably bring home one-night stands after touring. I would probably strip on stage and have the crowd cheer for me because I begged for attention. I would probably pose in dirty magazines for attention. For artificial confidence. 

I toss and turn in my bed, trying to get any sleep at all. My bed was empty tonight. I guess I deserve it. I mean, begging for anything doesn't get you anywhere. It shows how lazy you are to get it yourself. I am old enough to find a boyfriend. I'm old enough to know what I'm doing is wrong. But why haven't I stopped? Was it because I felt loved? No, I never felt loved. I tricked myself into thinking I was loved when in reality; I scared them and made them tell me I was pretty and that they loved me. When they were lying. They have the right to lie about that. I don't deserve love, I don't deserve attention, I don't deserve to live. 

And why did I even get mad at Tre? He was the first one I ever told my deepest feelings to. Even before Addie, my best and only friend who was ever willing to deal with my existence. She was the only one who would listen to me cry after my dad died. She was the only one who noticed my behavior change and understood me, instead of disown me. She was the only one who noticed I was feeling scared and depressed after Mr. Freese raped me. I didn't tell her until last week. I never wanted to tell her. I once had a crush on her before I realized I was gay. It turned out she liked me back but I had gotten a boyfriend by then. His name was Saint Jimmy. He was really different from all the other students, even me. He was dark and yet, happy. He was like if Addie was a boy. He was there for me; when I was feeling down, when I was in the mood, when I just wanted someone to hug me. About a month into our relationship, it was my birthday and I found out he killed himself after cheating on me. 

I ran to his house and found him hanging from the ceiling. I ran back to my house. I had cried all night and wrote a song about him. I sang it to my dad and he loved it, my mother disapproved. She said "I told you to stay away from that boy," and I cried even harder. Because if I had stayed away, I wouldn't have had anyone to hug me and kiss me. I wouldn't have anyone to please me and amuse me. 

I got out of bed and grabbed my notebook from high school. It was filled with my feelings, a tapped love letter from Jimmy and his song.  

 Take away the sensation inside

Bitter sweet migraine in my head
It's like a throbbing tooth ache of the mind
I can't take this feeling anymore  

  Drain the pressure from the swelling
The sensation's overwhelming
Give me a long kiss goodnight and everything will be alright
Tell me that I won't feel a thing
So give me Novacaine  

  Out of body and out of mind
Kiss the demons out of my dreams
I get the funny feeling, that's alright
Jimmy says it's better than here
I'll tell you why  

  Drain the pressure from the swelling
The sensation's overwhelming
Give me a long kiss goodnight and everything will be alright
Tell me that I won't feel a thing
So give me Novacaine  

  Oh Novacaine  

  Drain the pressure from the swelling
The sensation's overwhelming
Give me a long kiss goodnight and everything will be alright
Tell me Jimmy I won't feel a thing
So give me Novacaine  

I felt a tear drop escape my eye and fall onto the page and I started to shake.