A/N
You probably don't know me that well anymore, even T and G would have trouble recognising me now.
I've been gone for a while. I'm sorry. . .
I've grown up a bit; I'm less inclined to hate the world. I'm less aggressive and for that I'm grateful. I'm thankful that I'm alive still and I'm thankful that I'm stable enough to continue to write for you.
You damn amazing people.
Two days ago, I checked on my reviews in curiosity for this story and I found some new people had reviewed. They spoke of how I had provoked them to do something, how I had inspired them and I felt so humiliated.
So sad.
Sad that I had given up on something as simple as freakin fanfiction. I know I've changed, but I didn't want to leave behind those who haven't. Those who comforted me in my hour of need and laughed with me about chilli pizza and killing preps.
I'm so sad that I could do that to you, but it undermines everything I've been trying to achieve. My goals, my wishes.
So sad that for something that was once so important to me, I left and didn't look back.
I may seem over the top, but the truth it; fanfiction represents a side of me and I miss and hate and completely and utterly sympathise with. A side of me that had cooky friends and suicidal feelings and unbelievable lows and sky scraping highs.
So I'm back.
I don't know how many of you are still reading this, but don't give up quite yet;
I haven't.
What could you say to me to make me feel better? What could fix my ailments and push me towards life again? Questions that had been replaying over and over in my head. I searched desperately for some one to relieve me from this feeling of utter despise for myself, my form and my new life. I'd cry and scream for hours, simply for a source of entertainment. Of course Gee would be there, as always. Telling me that I wasn't useless and I could get better and that I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life like this.
I don't think people quite understand the level of despondence that had swollen in me. This numb feeling of disbelief. This stuff didn't happen to people like me.
I didn't get paralyzed. I didn't get forced to live with someone who I was completely, un-believable in love with, with no hope of ever being able to communicate with him again. A month or two had passed and Gerard was tiredly pushing me through the door of my physiotherapist's.
"I don't want to go on the bars again." I said gruffly. He smiled flatly.
"I know you don't, but it'll help." He said with all the persuasive passion he could muster. I did feel sorry for him, I had pushed him to lengths I didn't think he'd quite expected. He did everything for me, without complain and all I did in return was cry or moan.
"I wouldn't be doing this if you weren't so darn cute." I laughed half heartedly as he wheeled me to the reception. He leaned over my chair to the receptionist.
"I have an appointment with Mr. Phillips under the name of Way." She nodded and typed something in the computer before telling us to go straight through. He wheeled me through into my therapists room. Two door adjacent to each other were standing there.
"I thought we'd have another go at the bars."
"fuck off." I said calmly. He wasn't surprised.
"Blake, shh." Gee said embarrassed.
"That's quite alright, but you're getting on these bars and that's that." Mr dr said, he then gave Gee a funnyn little nod and Gee gathered me up in his arms and started to carry me towards to bars.
"NO! YOU TWAT!" I screamed, but I couldn't help but laugh. A deep hearty laugh that echoes through the room, a laugh I hadn't experienced in a while.