literature

Have You Ever Had That Feeling

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sweetscissorlips's avatar
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Have you ever had that feeling, like you don’t know if today is gonna be your last? When I’d open my eyes it would be followed by pain, fear and neglect. I’d listen closely to the ticking of my alarm clock and the shouting from downstairs, praying that this day would make a difference, that I wouldn’t have to live through it. Each time when I descended the stairs I’d see the same old thing. The fighting. The screaming. It would never stop. I wanted it too, oh how I wished for it…

If I’d tried to say I was sorry, even if I promised to say it a million times over, I’d be ignored by God. I felt as though I was being punished. A dead weight would settle in my mind, it made it so clear. I was pointless, I knew I was. How can you be worth something, if your own parents can’t look at you with a smile? I wanted so much for love, acceptance and over all I wanted to be held. I wanted someone to descend from the sky and pluck me from the life I was living and bring me down to a whole new place where nobody knew my name.

At school my name was known, oh yes, it was known all right. Frankie Iero. I wasn’t treated like a kid, I was treated like a disease. I’d sit alone on a bench, plenty of space around me, and would they come and join me? No. Not a chance. If I said a word, people would flinch back. What was I? Nothing. Nothing to no one but myself. How was I supposed to react to this? I couldn’t even begin to explain that to you.

After school, when I’d slump against the headboard, forcing my ears to hear nothing, I’d wish on that little star in the sky that this night was to be my last. I prayed to every god I knew beseeching for them to let me not awake in the morning. I wanted to never open my eyes again.

I’d lay there for hours at a time hearing all the things no child should hear. Swears, profanity and screaming. I’d hear the hits, the crying and the constant talk of ‘that boy’. My own parents didn’t even use my real name. I was the root of the problem. If I said anything, off it would go. Fight, fight, fight.

“You never talk to me! You’re always going on at me about that boy!”

“I couldn’t give a shit!”

“Don’t swear at me bitch!”

It seemed to go on forever. It was like my bedroom was a time capsule, replaying the same moments and fears and bad memories. If I were lucky I wouldn’t be dragged from my bedroom to confront them both. If I was lucky I would be ignored and they’d bicker. If I were unlucky however, my father would run up the stairs, grab me from my bed and beat me so my mother could watch. I’d never acknowledge her presence. I wouldn’t even ask for help from her. If she couldn’t step in herself, then why should I have to beg it from her? If she loved me, why did she not help of her own free will? It was a constant question. One I didn’t know the answer to.

Sometimes, if I closed my eyes I couldn’t feel his hands wrapped around my throat.

Sometimes if I stopped breathing long enough, I could numb the pain a little.

Sometimes, if I screamed loud enough, he’d release me out of pure contempt.

I’d be left with the memory, the bruises and scratches serving their purpose. I’d be left on my own in which ever room he chose to beat me in, and I’d remember times when I didn’t have to hide away from him. I’d be left with the only feeling I was still able to feel…sorrow…just…sorrow

As hard as I tried, my teen angst caught up with me. It took hold of me, slowly, gradually, and I became lifeless, listless and morose. I no longer heard the words they shouted, just the sound, just the constant noise. I managed to block out the whispers of kids around me in class and became too powerless to awaken any emotion. Hurting myself was pointless. Why hurt something that cannot feel?

It was this thought more than anything that pushed me to do what I did.

Think of it this way, just picture it in your mind, okay? You’ll get the meaning when I’m done I promise you.

Say you’re a boy. A boy in his mid-teens who is a victim of bullying and domestic violence. The troubles and struggling carries on for weeks, months and years until finally, the teenage boy becomes hardened to the world and can no longer feel anything but self-pity. Such a boy would not see a purpose in his existence, now would he? A creature that has only one throbbing emotion can be driven to do stupid things, it is in its nature. What if the boy then goes home that night after being taunted at school for a solid 6 hours, and he goes into the kitchen and finds a drunken father waiting? What if the boy is beaten and shouted at and told he is nothing by the person who helped create him? What would the boy do? How would this cold, unfeeling, uncaring, unemotional boy react? Well, I’ll tell you how, because I know first hand how. The boy would go up into the attic and hang himself from the rafters, because he didn’t see the point in living a life as dark and unfulfilling as this.

You understand. Don’t you? You understand now that just because a boy doesn’t say anything on the outside doesn’t mean he is lifeless on the inside…

Have you ever had that feeling, like you don’t know if today is gonna be your last? I have, and that very night I died. I confess it was suicide, I confess it because I find it pointless to lie, just as I found it pointless to live.
Title - Have You Ever Had That Feeling...
Author - Rosie Waine
Rating - PG13-16
Genre - death/angst/mentions of violence
Summary - Frank Iero tells you about how he felt the day he died.
Disclaimer - Don't own, don't know, don't sue. I have no connection with My Chemical Romance.

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Yet another old forgotten one shot dragged up from the past. This depressing tale comes from January 2006. This is quite issue based, soif you don't like that sorta thing then this certainly isn't for you.
© 2007 - 2024 sweetscissorlips
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yeshuas263's avatar
this is so moving...

its so tragically dark... abuse is such a terrible thing.