Merry Christmas, baby. Not for me. But hopefully for you.
We didn't decorate the house or put up the tree or anything. It's the same as it's always been. Decorating without you wouldn't feel right, so I've been staring at the wall wondering if I've lost my mind yet. Is it really Christmas? You haven't been here to tell me what's real and what's not real, so I don't know anymore. It doesn't feel like Christmas. But I wouldn't know, because there is no one to tell me what day it may be. I think I really have gone insane. I don't know anything anymore.
But I'm 95% sure it's Christmas, so, sweetheart, I hope you're having a very Merry Christmas.
You told me you love me. You told me you want to make things right. You told me you don't hate me, and you don't want me to suffer, and you fucking told me you'd stop drinking. But now it's 6:30 in the evening on Christmas and guess what? You're not home.
I hate myself for loving you. I hate myself. I can't even begin to tell you everything that happened while you were gone yesterday. Remember those blades I hid from you? I used them. I did horrible things, Gerard. Smoked, hurt myself, had an anxiety attack, and I contemplated life for quite a while. Where were you?
You just don't get it. I'm not even going to add the 'do you?' at the end because I know for a fact you don't. You don't understand how much the words you say and the things you do hurt me. You told me it would be okay, Gerard. You told me you'd stop drinking and that you'd prove to me that you really do love me. Well, great fucking job on that one. It's definitely working! I totally feel loved on this fine Christmas Day.
I've stayed faithful to you. My skin hasn't touched anyone else's but Mikey's for the past, I don't know, two months. And the only reason my skin touched Mikey's is because he had to keep me together the other day. I haven't touched anyone but you. And that doesn't prove anything, I guess, but you've done far more than just touch other people.
So tell me, do you really love me? Do you really want me? If you don't want me, I'm fine with being dead.
You're the only thing keeping me alive, Gerard. There's nothing else in this universe I'm willing to stay alive for besides you. If you leave me, I have no reason to keep going. Please don't leave me. I love you. Don't go.
But maybe I really should do it. Everything I look at is triggering, especially you. I've tried so hard, Gerard, I've tried so so so so so hard to save you but nothing works and I'm not enough for you and I'm not enough for myself and I just don't know what to do and I'm so close to giving up but I don't want to leave you, and oh, God, I don't want to be alone. I can't be alone. I've spent too much time alone and I just want to know what it's like to not be lonely for at least a full day. The silence is killing me, but at the same time, the loudness is killing me. This ringing in my ear every once in a while may as well be a signal that I haven't gone deaf, because the silence makes me believe that maybe I have. Please don't go, Gerard. Don't give up on me. Don't leave me here with myself - my enemy. I can't do this anymore. Don't go.
Come home. Please just come home and stay home and don't ever leave me again. I think today will make me hate Christmas for years upon years to come, if I even last till New Year's. God, New Year's will kill me, Gerard. Our first kiss. What am I gonna do, Gerard? What am I gonna do?
You make me want to die. You really do, but you also make me stick around and I just don't know how to feel about you anymore. No one said loving you would be easy, I guess. And I keep telling myself that.
No one said loving him would be easy, I always remind myself. No one said loving him would be easy.
I can't stop telling myself that. And it's not easy, trust me. Loving you is not simple at all. It is so difficult that it makes me hurt so bad to the point of considering suicide. But I can't stop and won't stop loving you. I think it's physically impossible to stop. I love you so, so, so much. Maybe those other guys tell you they love you, but don't forget who really loves you. Don't forget who knows every little thing about you and who hasn't left your side for anything. Don't forget who would die for you. Because I can guarantee you, not one of those guys you've done drugs with and had sex with would do anything for you.
Once again, this paper is smudged because I've been crying. I thought you'd at least stay home for Christmas, you know? I mean, what bar is open? Who could possibly want anyone over for drugs on Christmas? Are you up in an alley or something? Is that where you always go?
I heard you come home last night, slamming the cabinets, loudly and drunkenly singing a song I could barely make out. But I heard you slur some lyrics:
'You're running after something that you'll never kill...'
I couldn't understand a single other word you said, but I caught that. Eventually you fell silent and I went back to sleep, but by the time I woke up, you were gone again.
Those lyrics got me though. I think I understand. I've never heard the song (did you write it?), but I want to hear more of it and I want to understand.
There are obviously so many ways to interpret those words, but I interpret them as us. I keep chasing you, hoping you'll love me, but I'll never get that.
Is this a game to you or some shit? You make me think you love me and then you take the word 'hate' to a whole new level. You act like you more than just hate me. What have I done to make you hate me? Is it my fault? It is, isn't it? I swear, I'll fix it. I promise. I promise.
I promise.
Because I'm your prince and you're my prince.
I'll give you more than the world. I'll give you more than the solar system and the sun and the moon and the stars and the galaxies. If there's something bigger than the universe, I'll give you that. I'll give you whatever you need.
Just let me fix it, Gerard. Please give me a chance. I promise, okay? I promise I can fix it. I will fix it. I promise.
I promise.
