"Gerard?"
I stayed quiet.
"You've been too depressed lately," my brother said coldly, through the door. "If you feel like gracing us with your presence, I'd appreciate it if you'll come out for a few minutes. It's important." (I assume he walked away after that.)
I rolled my eyes, both at his sarcasm and his word choice, because he was wrong in his use of the word "depression."
This wasn't depression- he's impossibly wrong about that. That's not this new emotion. Depression is when you feel hopeless, it's when you think you're inadequate... And granted, I've felt like that for a long time, and I still do feel like that, but there was something more, now.
There have always been three emotions that have come naturally to me- depression, melancholy, and sadness.
The depression has been there the longest. I've never been good enough for anyone or anything, and I never will be. I'm a lost cause. The melancholy, well, that comes and goes. Melancholy is sadness without cause, and sometimes I fall deeper into depression without even knowing why. And sadness...? Well, I've, hardly ever been just plain sad. Sadness has a cause, it appears for a reason other than inadequacy or hopelessness.
Now, however, I think I am sad. In fact, I know that I'm sad.
I was very, extremely sad at the moment, and the cause of that emotion didn't seem to care. He probably wouldn't even notice if I died from this sadness.
"Gerard."
I rolled my eyes again at the sound of my brother's voice.
When was he going to learn that I didn't want to talk to him?
I didn't want to talk to anyone, for that matter.
I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to touch anyone.
I didn't even want to think anymore, because I hated the sound of my own voice, and I could hear it in my head. I didn't want to open my eyes, ever, because I'd end up seeing my hands and then I'd remember how annoyingly alive I am. I didn't want to touch anyone or anything, because the only touch I craved was that of the boy who I wasn't allowing myself to think about, and everything else seemed either dull or painful in comparison.
Quite honestly, I'd rather be dead.
I have nothing left to live for, anyway.
My brother, well, he'd be better off without me. He could finally learn to be on his own, to stand up for himself and make his own decisions.
My mom would have one less mouth to feed- we've been struggling with money for quite some time now. It would take a lot of stress off of her shoulders.
And the boy with the honey-hazel eyes and the butterfly wing smile? I doubt he'd even notice I was gone.
Mikey knocked on my door a few times.
I pressed my face further into my pillow. Maybe if I pretended to be dead he would believe it... Then they could just bury me alive, and I could die in peace.
Or maybe if I just died for real, he'd go away and assume that I didn't want to talk.
That would save us both a lot of trouble.
The knocking got louder. "Please come out, it's important..."
The fabric of the my pillow case clung to my lips as I breathed in. I hadn't meant to do it now- I never do. I've done this several times in the past by accident, breathed in so that my pillow case sucked towards my mouth and clung to my lips, but I've always jerked my head back immediately.
Chapter Thirteen - Gerard's POV
Start from the beginning
