#because gerard was always writing about death and loss as something to be dealt with

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

the thing is, for MCR death was always an external force. like, Helena, It's Not A Fashion Statement, even Famous Last Words, etc it's all like, death is this future, potential thing they're fighting back against. (side note: this is very much not true in tone for Gerard's solo album, which is... kind of heavy considering the timeframe it was produced/released and toured for in) but with FOB death has always been this thing right there, in the midst of them. it's a present haunting. I think the difference really comes down to: MCR is fighting death. FOB is breaking up with it.

[letloveinx]

blah

So here I am looking up my old counselor's phone number. Yup, this is another one of those ranty apathetic, generic Tumblr posts. I thought I was fine, well, I am ‘fine.’ It’s only moments like this and when I’m getting up out of bed in the morning that I realise I’m not ok *queue Gerard way*. Ironically, when I was miserable at the tender age of 15, I’d legitimately blast out “I’m not ok” in an attempt to receive some attention or just sit on the bed and wallow in my self-pity. The thing is, growing up in a stable, middle class household full of love and everything I ever needed sounds great. It was great, I had nothing to complain about, I mean of course I complained like all other hormonal teens, if they were ever being ‘over protective’ and not letting me stay out past 7pm. I suppose I wish they’d have given me slightly more freedom sometimes, I would have much rather spent some Saturdays at a ‘trashy’ house party than being stuck in a national trust house, but hey ho. So really what I’m trying to say, is that I don’t know why I’m like I am. Dad was always a worrier, sensitive and emotional. I have most definitely caught that off him. Sometimes we can’t give a direct reason as to why we have these mental health problems, sometimes they’re just imbedded in us for no apparent reason. We’re ‘born with it.’ No matter what happens, or what we try and do to avoid it, we’ll deal with it at some point. When I was last receiving counselling it was mainly to do with Dads death. It’s the normal thing to do I suppose, receive therapy when you’re dealing ‘badly’ with loss. I received the counselling sessions very early on which was great, maybe because they knew I had a history of self-harm. I physically self-harmed since January this year, however I think I’m mentally self-harming myself constantly. I fucking hate being like this, having these spouts of self-doubt and misery. I’ve dealt with it since forever really. I can vividly remember writing in my journal when I was seven years old that I hated myself. It was in a personalised note book called ‘totally me’. There was a section to write a list of all the things you liked about yourself. I wrote all the generic things like ‘funny’ ‘cool’ then somehow got myself into a right tizzy and violently scribbled it all out and wrote in large black felt tip ‘NOTHING, I HATE MYSELF’. My mother found it and broke down, then of course got the tipex out. again, I seem to have gone off on a tangent. I suppose the reason for this post was that I’ll probably never be totally ‘ok’. I’ll always go through these shitty, miserable periods in my life and there’s not much I can do about it. Although, as weird as counselling is (just sitting talking about yourself and why you think you feel the way you do) I suppose it helps. Knowing you’re addressing the situation and actively trying to help yourself definitely helps. I guess I should try and find Janet’s number and arrange something again soon.