Demolition Lovers

As lead rains, will pass on through our phantoms.

 [Gerard]

I stormed home, an emotional mess of…emotions. I couldn’t handle myself. I didn’t want pills, I didn’t want poisons I just wanted it to stop. That voice in my head whispering all the thoughts of heart break and betrayal and what I did wrong. I knew I was wrong, but I was trying. Today was supposed to be the day I started to try. But now, it’s the day I’ve chosen to give up. 

I sit down at my desk and take out a pencil, I have to write them a note, no matter how upset I am, I have to tell them ‘thank you,’ for everything, for making me see clearly just how bad I’d really fucked this up. Thank you for showing me my only way out of this fucking mess. I got angry and stabbed my arm with it instead, it started to bleed and the graphite of its tip was lodged somewhere in my skin, so I found a different pencil and started to write, blood spilling from my arm and decorating the paper in crimson dots. 

“Dear Beth, 

I Love You. 

I know you love me too because I could see it in your crying eyes.

I know you’ll miss me, I’m going to miss you too.” 

I stop reading what I’ve written and started to cry, my salty tears mixing with the blood from my arm at the bottom of the paper. I look at the mess of liquids and crumple the paper up, leaving it in the corner of the desk. I start over. 

“Dear Bethany, 

Please don’t cry. I love you.

I know that you love me too, I know you’re crying, but please stop. 

I know you didn’t want to hurt me, too. 

But I see what I’ve done. And I can’t live on poison anymore. 

I’m ending my life for you, in a hail of bullets. 

I love you.” 

I am happy with it. I fold it neatly, despite the pain that is pulsing inside my arm, and the fact that it’s still bleeding. I write her name in pretty calligraphy on the top, and draw small cartoon-esque memories I have of us in each corner. Our first kiss, our first everything, and seeing her in the doorway, I don’t give them too much detail, because she’d know what they are even if they were scribbles. 

I start a letter for Frank. And even though I love Bethany, I know this one will be harder. 

“Dear Frank, 

I don’t know what to say other than thank you. 

You’ve always been my rock, man. 

I hope you can be Bethany’s rock too. 

No, I’m not angry. I’m thankful. 

I love you too, Frankie.

One day you’re going to find that girl, I want you to tell me about her.

I promise I’ll listen to you, 

Even though I haven’t been.

Because where I’m going, there’s nothing else to do but listen.” 

I am crying so hard I’m not sure my words are actually written on the lines. I know my words are messy and misspelled, but so am I. 

This messy, misspelled man with no other choice. 

I hate referring to myself as helpless, but what other words can I use when that’s exactly how I fell? I was helpless and hopeless and in love and in death. I hated myself but I loved the poison, I needed it just once more. So I popped some pills and wrote my mom something special, 

“Dear Mama, 

We all go to hell,” 

I stopped and chuckled at myself here, tears rolling down my face,  I doodled a heart near her name, and next to it a pill. 

“That’s where Daddy went, that’s where I’m heading. 

But I promise it isn’t going to hurt me. 

I’ll see Daddy and he’ll tell me stories about you and Mikey.

Oh shit- Mikey, I’m so sorry. I love you bro, I’m so fucking sorry. 

I’m sorry I’m not the son or the brother I had the potential to be. 

I wish I was there in both your arms now, crying. 

Beth betrayed me today, our anniversary. But that’s not the point. 

I’ve been so blind to the world. Living off cheap poison.

It’s no way to treat my family, the people I love. 

I’ll visit, and that’s a promise.

Love, Gerard” 

I can’t control myself anymore. Just once more, my mind begs and I get up on wobbly legs, finding some liquid and swigging from the bottle. Tears mix with the bitter taste in my mouth and I laugh ironically, like a crazed maniac. I am crazed – just not a maniac. 

I pop open a few pill bottles and line them up in front of me on the coffee table. I sit on the couch, 

“Choose your poison.”