Finding a Way | Adopted by Gerard Way

It's All Gonna be Okay

*Possible trigger warning: ed, mentions of death*

I showered then went to bed earlier than usual last night. Partly because Gerard insisted I needed rest, but I would've anyway, really. I was completely drained of energy (especially after forcing myself into an intense 10 minute workout type-thing in the privacy of my own bedroom).

I dove deeper into my own head than ever before during my shower, and when I surfaced the feeling that I was drowning didn't end.

I was drowning in thoughts that popped up for seemingly no reason.

I'm stupid.

I'll never be good enough.

I'm a burden.

I should never have been adopted.

Drowning in voices that were all too quick to confirm my suspicions.

You're worthless, Evelyn. Unlovable. It's only a matter of time before Gerard gives up on you. You're causing too much trouble.

And last, but certainly not least, the most prominent thought of all:

Fat.

The only thing keeping me afloat has been the goal weight I've set for myself. It's fast approaching now, and soon I'll be lighter than air. Unable to drown.

Gerard is still clueless. He doesn't know I get by on a single meal a day— if that. The only other thing filling my stomach being endless glasses of cold water, maybe the occasional cup of tea. He doesn't know I manage fifty sit-ups daily, and spend less time sitting still than I do paying attention in class. He doesn't know I use the notebook he gave me for my birthday to log all this stuff and to write poems inspired by the darkest depths of my mind.

He doesn't know, Frank doesn't know, Mikey doesn't know, and neither does Ray. And they never will.

I don't care if it kills me.

When I pull back the curtains in my room, a Thursday morning has never looked more depressing. Freezing rain barrels down, and the roads look like a collision waiting to happen.

I check my phone like I do almost every morning, and see I have an alert: School is cancelled. The roads are too dangerous. I also have a message from Ray wondering how I am after what happened yesterday. He left pretty quickly after bringing me home.

I text him a simple, I'm okay, then set my phone down again before taking my notebook from my nightstand. The first thing I wrote in it was a copy of the poem from that night in the hotel. Title: When?

I flip through the pages before I land on something I wrote at about two in the morning only a few days ago. Title: Stick Thin Barbie Dolls

She could've been a happy kid
One with bright eyes, big smiles, and rosy cheeks
Who wanted nothing more than for school to be out for the day
So that she could stay home and play
But class doesn't stall for jump ropes and stick thin Barbie dolls

And still, it didn't stall when she was a young preteen
Seeing posters, and billboards, and magazines
And her so called "friends" told her that cake was something she didn't need to eat
We were all at risk of "type-whatever" diabetes

And still, it didn't stall when the stick thin Barbie dolls were packed away and the jump rope was out and used everyday

She was such a lonely teenager
Dark eyes, cracked lips, hollow cheeks
But those things were easily overlooked when that nicknamed "freak" from childhood now had a valley between her hip bones
Oh, she could've been a happy kid