I'm Not Okay (I Promise) • Geetrick

46

---Gerard---

Bullets racking through my soul. I am in pain.

My head down, my eyes low to the ground and my feet dragging on the linoleum flooring. My thoughts corrupt with the blonde haired boy and his green eyes. The thoughts are just flashes, just small images: A scar, U-G, a stray hair, a part of that chocolate and cream fedora, his gray hoodie. One thing after another, they keep taking over my mind, and I can barely focus on anything besides him. What is he doing? Is he okay? Who is he with? Is he using protection? Has he been with any girls? Does he think himself a slut after all this sleeping around? Is his PTSD bothering him? Is his anxiety distracting him? Will he be okay?

I barely see the person who knocks me down onto my ass on accident, he's short but strong, and as I finally look up, I instantly recognize Pete by his dark hair and whiskey eyes, his strong jaw and chiseled face, his Metallica tank top, and his ripped skinny jeans. In his hand is a much paler palm. I clench a fist as my eyes look to Patrick, a look of anxiety immediately sparks in his green eye. A flash of fear because of me. Because I made him agree to too many promises. Because I'm the reason, he's gone. Because it's my fault, I'm lonely. Because I was the one who told him to kill himself.

I scramble to my feet, tears falling to my cheeks and my heart beginning to ache all over again. I wish I could take painkiller for it. I want to take painkiller for it. One tablet, two tablets, three, four, five, ten, fifteen, down the whole capsule and wait for it to kill me. It would relieve me of this pain. The pain of seeing him with another boy, a fuckboy. I know I shouldn't call him that but I've seen how many people he's been with in the past few months... Girls, boys, anyone he can get together with he'll do it. For the sex. For the company. I like him as a friend, he's cool, but... I just hate what he does... It hurts people...

Like me...

I don't talk to anyone as I run through the halls, my hood bouncing behind me with each step I take. I can't focus on what's happening until I've reached my locker and I can take a deep breath. Patrick keeps flashing in my mind, his hand in Pete's. I hate it. Patrick's mine. He was my boyfriend... I knew it was too good to be true: He lived with me, we made love, he was comfortable around me, he loved me. Bob came along and fucked him up, all over again; made him hurt himself again like he used to. Bob and the fighting and the self-harm. It ruined him again like it had before and now he's gone. He's not mine anymore. He's Pete's. He's gone to drugs... Thankfully, Pete told me about that because he knew I'd be worried. I thanked him.

I'm wiping my tears as I throw a few things into my locker and shut it with a loud slam that makes me cringe. The hall is beginning to empty as people trickle into their classes and, though I feel like going home, the only thing I can do is follow them into my first period.

First, second, and third periods go by fast, faster than I want them to. I don't want to see Patrick. I don't want the jealousy to get the best of me... I don't want to be jealous of Pete. I shouldn't be jealous of Pete. Patrick chose him over me. It's my fault that he doesn't want me, I wasn't enough. I've never been enough. I can't stop Mama, I couldn't save Dad, I couldn't change Mikey's mind. Why should I be enough for Patrick? He said he's taking a break but for how long until he has to accept that he's not mine anymore and he wants to be with someone else? I'm a constant downer, why should anyone like me...?

You should just kill yourself and get it over you. You deserve it.

Frank talked to me in second, he told me that Brendon told him everything that's going on and he said to me it's going to be okay. I nearly cried again. Nearly. I hate this. I hate being so sad all the fucking time. I hate that I want to hate Patrick at least half as much as I hate myself but I can't. I hate that no matter how hard I try to escape the constant thought of him, those bright green eyes, that nervous smile, those sleeved arms, that beautiful stomach. Everything just hurts me inside because I can't have him. Because of me, I've ruined myself.