Dead Like Me

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When I think about him now, I know he had all these ideas, all these fantasies about being my boyfriend. Teenage, juvenile, angsty fantasies where the knight in shining armour rescues the maiden in distress, that sort of thing. But I wasn't a teenager anymore. I knew better than him about things like that. I knew about giving yourself to someone, a bad idea by any standards. They can hurt you in so many more ways once they know all your secrets. But Frankie, he was so inoccent. He was so clean, so pure. He was everything I wasn't and everything I should've wanted to be. It was the beauty of perfection, like undisturbed, freshly fallen snow.

I just couldn't help pissing my name in that snow, just for the sake of marring its clean perfection.

Damn it, how could one person be so fucking clean?

You always want to be the damsel in distress right? You always want to be the one to be rescued. Maybe that's why I did it. I wanted to be rescued from something. No one recognized that I should have been saved from myself. So I started making new problems.

That's where the booze fits in.

I think that my liver was in shock. My alcoholic intake had greatly increased over the last few years, perhaps directly in proportion to the time we spent together. If I could have just spared him from the hell I infected him with. The vices I introduced him to, made him want to have. But he never really wanted those things. He wanted me.

And I wanted him to suffer for it.

I told you, he wanted all sorts of things. Happy lovey dovey things. A relationship. Cuddling. All those things that would make him my boyfriend. But I didn't have boyfriends.

Gerard Way did not have boyfriends. Fuck 'em and chuck 'em was my motto. That was just the way it was. That was the way it always had been. Well, maybe not always, but once I got smart, I didn't change for anything. If I got soft it meant compromising all of the asshole-ish things that I loved about myself. It was the only thing that I could love about myself, that I didn't give a fuck aoubt anyone or anything. I hated everything else about myself. I hated myself period. I wasn't who I wanted to be, but when I drank, it didn't matter. When I drank, I was whoever and whatever I wanted to be. Sober was not an option.

Fucking kid. He ruined my fucking life.

That first time I met Jordan, I swear to God I thought Frankie was gonna explode.

I had never seen the look I saw on his face the instant that the realization hit him. I don't think that even then he really understood what I was doing to him. I thought he liked girls anyway. But I was determined to do something about it. Not for him, but for the satisfaction of corrupting the uncorruptable.

But you can't corrupt something that doesn't want to be corrupted.

I was going to get him.

One way or the other.