The feeling of sadness, they say, is relative.
Of course, in my honest opinion, that's a load of horse shit. Sadness is sadness, no matter what you are or how you think or even the reason you're sad. All sadness is valid, in reality, but it's not just.. sad. You get me, right?
Of course you do. I'm hilarious.
It doesn't matter how people get sad. Some people get sad because their favorite band splits. Others get sad because of a death or a suicide. Some people get sad just because their bodies haven't thought of an alternative to this. Other people are just sad permanently. But it doesn't matter either way, right?
In the end, we're all just fucking sad. It doesn't matter how cheerful we appear or how many good deeds we do within our sad little lifetime - we all feel the same heaviness in our bones, the same labored sighs, the same metallic taste of regret on the tips of our tongues.
Or, something like that.
That was too dark, wasn't it?
Sorry.
Honestly, the same thing can be said about insanity. There's no model to base insanity around, is there? There's no Class A. Psychopath, Class B. Sociopath, et cetera, et cetera. There's just a bunch of shrinks who pretend to analyse your behavior when, in truth, they really don't give two shits.
You could argue that I'm insane too. I mean, nobody writes letters to people anymore. It's.. just not how things are done. And hardly anyone does this face to face thing anymore, either. Not when you have an iPhone or something constantly at your disposal.
Shit, I sound like my fucking grandmother.
You know that feeling when you get so sad that you can't feel anything? You know, the way it sticks into your chest, the way your breath heaves and you cry and cry but.. There's nothing. There's nothing but messy eye makeup and the same heaviness in your bones that makes you think a noose around your neck would be better off then living.
Sorry. Too dark again. Damn.
I'm sorry.
I feel my bones get deeper and at this rate I'll fall right into my own grave. Well, no, it'll probably be more of a graceful tumble, but that's beside the point. It's not that I wanna die, Frankie, it's just that I can't go on otherwise. I'm sorry, but if my life is a Broadway show, then I'm the lead actor and I'm not sure we'll have the understudies to compensate.
Life is boring, Frankie. I miss you, so bad. I just want you, or Mikey - god, Mikey - to come back. I wanna see that pretty face of yours again, Frankie - God, so bad. I wanna hold you in my arms just how you like (close, but not constricting, with my arms around your waist, holding you near). I want to kiss you (slow but sweet, noses touching, giggles on our connected lips). I want to be with you, really, I do.
I don't want to regret anymore.
Love,
(Your) Gerard.
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