May 8, 2008


When I first found My Chemical Romance, my life was about to take a turn for the worse. My brother had left the house about a year ago. He was my hero, my only person to talk to. And just like that, he was gone. He left without saying good-bye and only shows up every couple months. My mother had suffered a brain hemorrhage five years before, and contracted MS. She was, therefore, almost unable to move around for long periods of time. My father was (and still is) a lawyer who was never home. When he was home, he was stressed and tired. My sister... well, she's two years younger than me. Take a wild guess at how well we got along.

My grades were not at their best either. Most of my classes were slowly getting the best of me, and I was upset and frustrated all the time. My friends were the only ones I could fall back on. With the pressure surrounding teenage life, even my support system began to crack. Many of my friends became severely depressed and suicidal. It seemed I was constantly getting confessions of 'I'm cutting' or 'I want to die'. It was just too much.

It was like trying to tread water in the ocean during a hurricane. I gave in. Almost every day, I would lock myself in my bathroom with a razor and hack at my legs and arms. I'd feel so numb. It was like I was slowly suffocating. Every time I would cut, I wouldn't even feel the pain. I'd just lean back and let it bleed. That was, until I turned to My Chemical Romance.

My Chem helped me so much during that time. Sometimes, when I was depressed, I would simply turn on Bullets or Revenge and scream and cry until all my frustrations were gone, and all that was left was the music.

I went to a MCR concert in April. Being able to stare directly at the people who were bringing me to life and sing along with all of the others made me realize I wasn't alone. I cried a lot. I screamed until I couldn't anymore. Finally, I hit a turning point in my life. My head cleared. I was finally able to feel happy. My scars healed, and I could wear short sleeves. I felt alive. It was nice, but I knew it wouldn't last.

Despite my hopes that the worst was over, it wasn't. I hadn't seen my brother in half a year. My dad was never home. My mom was getting worse. Unfinished projects piled up. Relatives were dying. I felt isolated for the first time in weeks. I couldn't stay happy anymore. All my hard work was flushed down the toilet, and I gave in to the knife once more. The more I cut, the worse I felt. Before I knew it, I was suicidal. I hated it.

I hit my ultimate low when my parents decided we needed an elevator. My mom couldn't get up the stairs as well, and needed an easier way. The shaft was being built right outside of my window. If I wanted, I could walk onto our back porch and stare down the gaping hole to the ground two floors below. It seemed perfect. I would tell myself, 'Whenever I want, I can just jump, and everything will be okay.'

One day, I decided I'd had enough. I'd had my heart broken, and the despair clouded my judgment. I was about to step over the edge of the shaft, when something called me back. I pulled away slowly. As my mind cleared, I heard the dark melodies of The Black Parade from the kitchen below. My sister was playing Famous Last Words. Without knowing it, she had just saved my life. I sat at the edge of the shaft for a long time, singing along to the song and crying. The lyrics just reminded me that I wasn't alone. I could keep on living. I had to be strong. When the song ended, I ran into my room and played the three CDs over and over until I fell asleep.

Not a day has gone by since that I done look out my window and silently thank those five guys for saving my life. I'm proud to say that I am seeing a therapist and have not cut myself in a long time. My brother finally came to visit, and we have been catching up. I know my story is a tad over-dramatic, but I swear it's true. Gerard, Mikey, Frank, Ray, Bob, thank you so much for giving me my life back. I love you guys so much.