The Wild Escape

Part 1- Not a Normal Day

I walked through the hallways, silently with my head down. The kids around me conducted their normal routines: talking with their friends, running in the halls while being loud and obnoxious, getting in the way of other kids, and joking about things that shouldn't be joked about. Something seems a little different today, however. Some kids were staring at me with extremely dirty looks, as if they wanted to kill me. I've never gotten these looks since my first day of freshman year.

Nothing has really changed about my personality or style since the eighth grade. That was the year Keeley graduated high school and went off to college, and it was the year I became "emo." I've always, since the middle of eighth grade, dressed in all black and listened to pop punk and alternative rock music. It's been four years since then.
          I miss Keeley so much, as I do every day. She was the only friend I've ever had, and she still is. I turn to her for advice, problem-solving, laughs, reassurance that I'll be okay, and simply someone nice and pleasant to talk to in a world full of jerks and fakers. Before she drove off to college, she gave me one of her guitars. I treasure and play it all the time now. She's the only one I can trust and look up to; I can't even trust my own parents for anything.
          About a month after Keeley graduated and drove off to college, I started to question and wonder about my mental health. I had barely any motivation to do anything at all besides lie in bed all day, listening to music. The little motivation I did have was spent playing guitar or writing lyrics. I was feeling extremely lost, confused, lonely, and sad all at the same time. I told my parents about this one day, and they took me to a therapist and a psychologist to see what was going on. After a long session of questions and tests, I found out that I had been diagnosed with depression-- half of a month before the appointment. I expected my parents to be supportive of me and to help me through it, but they shamed me for it and blamed it on the music I listened to at the time (and still listen to now). They were trying, but failing, to convince me that the bands I listen to are "evil," "satanic," and "detrimental to my soul." I continue listening to these bands, mostly My Chemical Romance, because they are the opposite of evil, satanic, and detrimental to my soul. They actually help me cope, make me smile genuinely, and keep me alive; they help me more than anything else could ever.
          Ever since that appointment, my parents and I have had continuing wars of words between each other. It's all over the bands and music I listen to/love. These constant wars worsen my inner storms even more, and the dirty looks from these kids in the halls right now aren't helping.

"Hey, emo!" Travis Donaldson, a homophobic, racist, and sexist jerk who's been known to abuse his past girlfriends, shouted to me as I just about arrived at my third class of the day. Normally, I just go ignored and unnoticed from the crowd. Today is not normal, but it's in the worst way possible.
          I tried my hardest to ignore, but I had to say something: "Hey, what's your problem?"
          "Your shirt. That band is evil and emo. So, you're evil and emo," he replied.
          I looked down at the My Chemical Romance shirt I'm wearing, silently mad at Travis.
          "Maybe that horrible band is the reason you're so depressed and quiet all the time," Travis's best friend, Trevor Larson, added.
          "You can turn away from them and turn to God now," Travis said, trying but failing miserably to sound like a motivational speaker.
          "You guys should leave me alone. I need to get to class," I said.
          "We won't leave you alone until you stop being emo," Trevor replied, getting angry.
          The insults from these two jerks, as well as a few of their friends, continued to flood in:
          "Goth girl!",
          "Atheist emo!",
          "Worthless piece of s***!", and
          "Over-dramatic punk teen!"
          Before it got any more intense, I quickly walked into my class and shut the door, quiet and glaring at the floor because of these boys. I continued to do that the rest of the day.
          Travis and Trevor saw me at the end of the day as I waited for my bus to come. Here we go again... They continued to shout heartless and thoughtless things at me. I didn't hear them clearly, except for one from Trevor that really shattered my heart into pieces:
          "If you're really emo, you must be cutting or popping pills. Isn't that what My Chemical Romance makes their fans do? They're evil! They're gonna make you kill yourself one of these days, and you're gonna regret being one of their cult followers!"

I almost started to sob at the comment. My bus arrived at the school soon enough for me to get on and take the back seat so no one would notice my itching red eyes, painfully red face, and tears running down that painfully red face. All I needed to do to cheer up was plug in and put in my earbuds, open my music app, and play music by, you guessed it, My Chemical Romance. That band is the reason I don't self-harm, take drugs, think about killing myself, or actually attempt suicide. Alongside of Keeley existing and many other bands I listen to, MCR are my main reason that I'm still alive.
          For the next forty minutes of my bus ride, I just sat and listened to music. My tears slowly stopped rolling, and a smile came to my face. Even though it was just a short amount of time, I was happy while listening to MCR. At this point, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Frank Iero, and Ray Toro are the only ones who can keep me sane.

When I arrived home from school, I rushed up to my room, ignoring my parents sitting in the living room. I rushed through my homework for the next half-hour, then pulled out my poetry notebook. That's where I write poems and lyrics that I feel like need to be released from my brain at the moment. I knew exactly what I wanted to write, so I wrote it:

          Don't know how to conquer anymore;
          I wish someone would come open my door.
          I need someone who cares and will make my day,
          but the only ones I know live hours away.

          Overlooked, ignored, and treated like nothing
          is how it's for me every day, and now I hate it more than anything!
          I wanna speak up now,
          but I'm so afraid that I don't know how.

          The lonely feeling is killing me,
          so I need someone who will see
          who I really am inside
          and will help heal these wounds that have never died.

          I need someone! I need someone!
          I need someone who'll understand and support,
          I need them more than anything else right now.

          These angsty-teenager lyrics are just what I needed to let out so I could keep myself under control. So, I then picked up my guitar (the one Keeley gave to me), plugged it into the amp, turned up the amp a little bit, and played random chords that sounded good together with the lyrics. I noted down these chords in my music notebook and played the song again and again, realizing that I wrote this song about Keeley.

The rest of the evening was spent in my room, switching between playing my guitar and listening to music. That was until dinner late at night. It was a decent dinner, despite the complete silence and the random small talk. I guess that's better than starting another war of words over what happened to me in school today and over the music I listen to.
          I took a shower and brushed my teeth right after dinner so I could spend the rest of the evening in my room. It was just me and my music, because I needed someone to sing to me. I didn't feel like singing or playing guitar. All I did was sit on my bed with my phone blasting a huge mix of music from all my favorite bands: My Chemical Romance, Sleeping With Sirens, Pierce The Veil, Black Veil Brides, All Time Low, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Panic! At The Disco, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, Bring Me The Horizon, Linkin Park, and Twenty One Pilots. I didn't open any other apps; I just listened to the music, lip-syncing the lyrics with them and subtly dancing. These bands understand me more than my own parents do. I just listened to the bands that save my life, with their extremely relatable and motivational lyrics, beautiful and amazing music, and beautiful singing-- and screaming, until 11:30 p.m., when I decided it was time for me to get some sleep.

That's all I need to do to keep myself safe, sane, honest, comfortable, and distracted from reality.