September 8, 2008


I feel a little weird submitting my story. Some of the other people who have posted on this website...I mean, wow. They have all gone through such crap, and here I am, submitting a story that isn't half as sad or important. But everybody has a story, and everybody's story has to be told. So here's mine. 

I was originally a happy kid. My parents were and still are the best parents I could possibly have. Before middle school, my life was, for lack of a better phrase; totally freakin' awesome. Good friends, good parents, good life. Then middle school came and everything went straight to hell. Well, maybe not straight to hell, as I made three of the best friends of my life in that school, but it was certainly hellish. 

Every day for four consecutive years, me and my friends got picked on. We were picked on because we "read too much," because we liked anime. We all have retained some psychological damaging from that place. Two of us are currently in therapy for it. Two months after I graduated eighth grade, my mother was reading a Rolling Stone magazine. She saw an article about MCR in there, and she said, "Hey Meghan, these guys like Teen Titans, too." I could hardly believe it. A punk rock band as geeky as me? Surely it couldn't be possible! Well, I looked them up on the internet and saw their music video, 'I'm Not Okay (I Promise).' As soon as I saw this video, I fell in love with them. Not because the lead singer was extremely good-looking (actually, at the time, I didn't think he was all that attractive), but because they actually understood what it was like to be picked on. They knew what my friends and I had endured. They freaking understood! And their music! Their music was completely different from what I had ever heard before. I knew right then that these people would mean so much more to me than almost anything else.

Well, ninth grade came. New school, new people. Unfortunately, because of middle school, I had developed a severe social anxiety that has still not gone away. I was petrified. There were and are three thousand kids in my school. While it is torture to walk the halls everyday, it's still better than middle school. So, I had made friends. I had met new people, and they all seemed nice. Though while everything was going great, what my friends didn't know was that just about everyday I was having panic attacks. They came from stress about grades, social stress, and, oh yeah, my mother having cancer. A few months away from the end of ninth grade, I had a quiet mental breakdown. I tried to keep from anyone noticing, but people noticed. They didn't think anything was wrong, they just thought I had turned into a jerk. I became more irratable, more likely to yell and scream and insult. While I was mean on the outside, I was broken on the inside. A couple weeks went by, and my mental breakdown was going strong. My grades began to slip ever so slightly, but my mom attributed it to the end of school laziness. I began to think more and more of ending my life. I wasn't going to do anything. I knew I wasn't going to do anything, and that sickened me, that I would be that cowardly and scared. The only comfort I had was My Chemical Romance. I played I'm Not Okay over and over again until I was singing it in my sleep. I reasoned with myself that if I died, I wouldn't be able to listen to MCR anymore. A pathetic argument, I know, but it's one that kept me alive. I stayed alive for MCR, and I am forever in their debt.

I am still depressed enough to want everything to end about once every two months, but MCR helps me pull through. I still get major social anxiety; I am terrified of people. But whenever I get scared in a crowded place, I sing Teenagers and I feel a little bit better. As I've said at the beginning, I'm not sure why I'm putting this story up. It's not real important, but I guess I just wanted people to hear my story. It's not intense, like some of these other stories, but it's mine.

Frankly, the media should be ashamed of themselves. If they want to write about a band, they should get to know the whole story before they make ignorant assumptions. MCR has saved so many lives. People who save lives are not ones who advocate death. As long as there is breath in my body, I will stand up for the band that saved my life.