When The Amazing Devil wrote "You will scream, 'I won't forget you' but I'll cover my cold ears, It cannot be a lie if no one hears. 'Cause although you say good day to me, I know I don't belong. And although you hold my hand and say I love you, you are wrong. 'Cause love does not exist in this garden, there's no feeling. And you say the words so often that I barely know the meaning. And when the flowers are rotten and all cannons shot, I'll scream but you won't hear, 'forget me not'" and when they said "Pray for me, oh children, pray for what I've done, I'll haunt the very wrinkles of your skin" and when they yelled "God made all man in his image, Honey I'm no man, I'm what's left when children go to war" and when they cried "The cracks you made, I filled with mortar, a broken pot can still hold water" and when they whispered "These hands are growing old, they're running out of things to hold" and when we all weeped with them "If I'm good will you come back, If I'm good will you come back to us" and when they scribbled "Let foul men band and heed your hum for that ancient hymn you heard me strumming's nought but fumble-falls and guns and tumbleweeds, love run. It's nought that rum won't solve though some would harm you, none, not one, no one would raise to you a hand nor thumb, not while by you, I stand and hum" and expected people to just go on about their days, and when they said "If I have to be who I was (You're not) Do I have to be who I am" and then they said "'Cause I will suffer silence for the strings you tune. And I'll withstand what's written for the writer in you. Write me well, my love, write me weird, write me willing, write me well." And when we all sang "Shoulder the sky (I can't wait to show you how much) Open those eyes (I know you can be, just let the rain come) There's a kind (Let the rain come down, darling) (Can't you hear it howling) Of calling" and when they made me freeze right where I stood with "Back then, I wasn't hopeful. But now my ink's blood red, not black. And I'll blink like ripping envelopes in the hopes that you'll write back" and BACK TO BACK they wrote "Cause I'm between that just-one-more and drank-too-much again" "And I promise you I'll write I love you with my fingers on your sleeping hand" "And when I think I'm fine you'll visit, and then you'll happen to me, happen to me all over again" and then had the audacity to say "And I'll sing silence, and ask my glass of wine for guidance. I might not make it tonight" and then "They'd paint your eyes with sunsets (my saints, my sigs, my upsets)" and ON TOP OF THAT "You're not a coward 'cause you cower. You're brave because they broke you, yet broken, still you breathe." AND SOMEHOW WROTE "'Cause I'm not trapped with you, you see. you're the one who's trapped with me." IN THE SAME FUCKING SONG ALONGSIDE "Sometimes I fall to pieces just to see what bits of me don't fit" then decided to break some hearts with "We didn't talk, we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands. You said I love you less than when it all began, and I said fewer cause I make jokes to show how broken I really am" and then they were both the man their fathers never were and more than what their mums told them to be. And then there was the utter heartbreak of "If I don't make it back from where I've gone, just know I've loved you all along" being repeated for an entire outro. AND THEN THERE WAS "Remember me I ask, remember me I sing. Give me back my heart, you wingless thing." with "Think of all the horrors that I promised you I'd bring, I promised you, they'll sing of every time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child. Witness me old man I'm the wild." "How bold I was, could be, would be, still am. By God still am" AND THEN THE SHEER FORCE OF THE LINES "Welcome to the storm, I'm thunder. Welcome to my table bring your hunger"

AND EVERY TIME THEY COMPARED THEMSELVES TO THE SAINT OF THE PAINT THAT WAS LEFT IN THE POT, YOUR ANGEL ELLIPSIS, YOUR DEVIL OF DOTS, THE HEARTBREAK THAT ACHES FAR TOO MUCH TO BE SHUNNED, ALL THOSE LETTERS UNSENT, AND THAT GARDEN UNGROWN, THE CAPTAIN OF COURAGE THAT YOU'VE ETERNALLY LACKED AND THE JESUS OF WISHING TO CHRIST YOU'LL COME BACK AND SO. MUCH. MORE.

"This here is not make up, It's a porcelain tomb. And this here is not singing I'm just screaming in tune" ARE YOU KIDDING ME "You try so loud to love me, I cannot seem to hear" and "'Cause If we join our hands in prayer enough, to God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause" IN THE SAME ALBUM WITH "And these plates they smash like waves (place your hand in mine) And on the wind, it howls (how long can this last?)" AND "'Cause these plates, they smash like waves (Place your smile in mine) And the wine stains, hide the tears (Why stay? Hide the-) But that breathing you hear, don't mistake it with sighs. Don't you realize, they're just battle cries, my dear?" And then, when they said "And you, you follow philosophies, but me, I laugh, I choke. 'Well hello my hollow Holofernes' I wink but you don't get the joke" and while we were all busy processing, they reminded us "Your eyes aren't rivers there to weep, but a place for crows to rest their feet" AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON "I chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked" In this essay I will-

I hate how some people are making jokes or telling us we can't be sad or that feeling heartache listening to five albums worth of her music right now is hard and we're connecting to her art "wrong" like jfc it's been one day and this is a devastating shock we can be sad for a minute!

absolutely cannot stress enough how completely and entirely NORMAL it is for people to be sad and shaken right now, and it doesn't mean we're interacting with her music incorrectly or too invested or confused and think she's our best friend or something, none of that is true, and people dismissing it as that are the ones seemingly missing the point. when someone you care about is hurt, you hurt for them, it's human. it doesn't matter that we don't know her directly, an inherent bond is in fact formed between us and her music, and there is no getting around the fact that her music is deeply personal and autobiographical, and that a significant portion has been shaped by and written about this relationship - which also isn't a bad thing, it's beautiful! that love was so real and so transformative and such an important lifeline, and we can be grateful forever that she met joe when she did and that he helped her through those terribly dark times and that they supported and loved one another the way they did, when they did. all of that is still true. it's not undone - it was rare, it was there! (to borrow from a different tune) - and they needed it and it served them in lovely ways for as long as it could. the "these songs were about my life, now they're about yours" mentality is all well and good, but sometimes a bit impossible, and that is okay to acknowledge! the idea that you must take context away and only relate them to yourself or your blorbos is a bit silly, they're still taylor's art and diary and life (and you can and should do both!). also i'm gonna be honest here, many of us do not have a love like that to apply them to, so of course the original meaning sticks a bit. fandom acting like it's a sin right now to be thinking of her within her own music and aching for that is ridiculous. that WILL fade with time, but there hasn't been time yet! everyone's just sort of reeling and trying to process. this is collective mourning for many different aspects of things, it's in fact going to be a different bit of sadness for each person even though we're sharing it together, and that's also normal! her music being intensely personal and lyrically poignant gives us that sense of connection and empathy for what she's experienced and what she's shared, and this is the only time when we've experienced her writing about this type of love, the amount of time it's lasted (we are by extension very used to joe having been a constant! six years is a lot! there are many newer fans who've never known taylor without him being a significant factor), and tbh i could go into further detail here about why it's hitting hard and the little griefs everyone has been sorting through today. you can be grateful something happened and grieve its ending, and the ending of any potential future that might've happened, you can hurt for another person simply because you care for them and wish them the best and want them to be happy. it's not invasive when we are fully aware of the boundaries there too. it's okay for the music to sting and be difficult right now because it's about a life that no longer exists - we will all go back to it and reclaim it and feel the warmth and love in it again, we will hold onto that gratitude (i will never not be thankful that joe was in her life exactly when she needed him and helped her the way he did, that she flourished so much personally and creatively in that time, she didn't have to do that work or find that strength alone and that's a wonderful thing too). it's all about understanding those emotions and giving them space and compassion. we need to give grace to taylor and joe, to each other, and to ourselves for anything we're feeling right now.

In Defense of Teenagers:

Ok so. There seems to be a general consensus that Teenagers doesn’t fit on the black parade or that it ruins the trajectory of the album or that the song order of bp needs to be changed to fit the b-sides and drop Teenagers, or it should have just been a single- basically any option other than its inclusion between Sleep and Disenchanted would have been better. now, i’m not here to tell anyone that they’re wrong- i just want to offer an alternative perspective because i truly believe Teenagers is right where it belongs and that its inclusion on that album is, in my opinion, completely necessary to the album’s narrative arc. I want to focus on the way Teenagers builds into the foundation of the Concept Record, the way it bridges the gap between Sleep and Disenchanted so as not to delegitimize Disenchanted’s impact, and the fact that no other available material fits into the struggle the Patient endures at the end of the narrative (sorry this got LONG here’s a read more)

So, before we get into the meat of Teenager’s narrative significance, i wanted to briefly mention the way it makes Black Parade a more cohesive whole in relation to the material it is mimicking. Like Black Parade as an album is structured very differently from Pink Floyd’s The Wall- but it takes a lot of the same beats and recontextualizes them for a new purpose. Both records use war and relationship troubles and school and drugs to create an atmosphere that leads to disillusionment. In The Wall, this is quite literally the protagonist, Pink, building up “bricks in the wall” that isolates him from the rest of society and lead to a downward spiral into cynicism and hate. But Black Parade uses the same tools that The Wall does to say something different- things, specifically the actions you've made or the trauma you've endured, haunts you and makes your life seem insignificant in the face of what happens to you and those regrets are what causes the Patient to fall into a cycle of damnation and cynicism. This is representative of the Patient's descent through the afterlife- each new "layer" of the Patient's exploration is equivalent to a brick in The Wall's metaphor. Additionally, in this new context, this song in particular takes The Wall’s discussions of adolescence and the vice-grip control older generations attempt to force on teens and the disillusionment with the future and retells it from a new perspective- both literally in the fact the song is now more reflective of the 2000s post-9/11 and post-columbine culture, but its also literally from the perspective of the Patient as an adult. Teenagers, as a result, becomes a necessary piece of that puzzle- it is the refraction of Another Brick in the Wall repurposed to mean something new entirely- it’s no longer about kids being forced into complacency by a cruel education system from their own perspective (the children’s choir allows them to speak for themselves) but about the ways in which adults see those kids and why they decide to enact actions similar to those within The Wall. I mean even the imagery used in the song’s music video is purposely almost plagiarizing The Wall- it feeds into a separate analysis of the video and song outside the narrative as well- which i don’t have time right now to get into, its just very interesting that the band is bodily removed from their instruments at the end of the video and the teenagers in the audience have rendered them incapacitated (“they’re looking for a rockstar to kill” anyone?) it's the metaphorical tearing down of the wall from a completely different perspective. Anyway, the work Teenagers does for the narrative is it fits the album into the Concept Record Cinematic Universe- it is a piece that evokes the material it is influenced by to build off of the old to create the new- without it, the connections to The Wall would still be there, sure, but it wouldn’t be as complete- you cannot recontextualize the album without the foundation of Teenagers.

Teenagers is also, at its core, a subtle subversion of genre- using the blueprint of a specific kind of song to center the song within the timeline/narrative. In this case, the same way I Don’t Love You mimics and exaggerates the emotive and plaintive 80s rock ballad, Teenagers twists the classic rock of a bygone era to specifically call back on the stadium rock anthem.  Black Parade, on the whole, does this quite frequently- most of its songs take pre-existing genre cues and subverts them in ways that play off of the expected tapestry of a concept record to create individual sounding songs that seamlessly transition into one another yet remain entirely separate. It maintains their presence as scenes in a larger tapestry- specifically the fabric of the Black Parade being a morality play. This serves two purposes, it allows for this exaggeration of genre to become a motif within the work (see mama, cancer, house of wolves, i don’t love you, wttbp -> they all play with a different, varied song type/structure that is distinct from each other) and it plays off of existing genre-stereotypes in ways that contribute to the songs overall function. I Don’t Love You, for example, undermines the fundamental purposes of sappy power ballads- to express one of the two dualities of love songs: the cheesy unconditional “i will love you forever” types or the plaintive, melancholic end-of-relationship song by instead focusing on the complexity of a not-quite-finished relationship. The ballad then shifts from an expression of love to one of human loss- and the loss is less about the individual speaking, but moreso about what the other character has become - it’s a mourning not for the relationship, but for the person themselves, who they used to be in a way. It shifts from the one-dimensional view of what a ballad can achieve and instead infuses the anger, the resignation, the drama, the transformation- it humanizes a very stock genre full of platitudes and uses our expectations to create something more interesting. Similarly, Teenagers takes a tired genre and utilizes the working mechanisms of its typical song structure to subvert and repurpose those into commentary- its literally a stadium rock song that devolves into a chant. Looking at the loud drumbeat that resonates in your chest, the all together now as a command that lures the listener into singing along, the addition of more chorus vocals at the end like a crowd is shouting along, the screaming and the solo on after another like the song is falling apart a little bit, all of these elements build into a song literally meant to be infectious and replicated by the audience. Herein lies one of the songs many interpretations- humans can be easily influenced by the media they consume, the perspectives they are fed. What happens when the view that we have of adolescence is cloaked in mistrust and violence? This aspect of the song is less about the band reconciling teenagers being moved to committing acts of violence and more in analyzing how an audience can be persuaded into believing the erroneous view of teens as fundamentally destructive- are you not repeating the chorus? do teenagers not “scare the shit out of you”? Obviously the band doesn’t want you to believe this but it does what you to think about why this perspective is so common. It's a cultural subliminal message that is present in songs and tv and books that we simply do not question- it is a chant we cannot help but join in on. Teenagers is a replication of that process, but is clearly just subversive enough (both as a piece of genre and just as a song in general terms) that the listener knows its commentary and not itself propagating that viewpoint. Every song on Black Parade does this kind of “genre-bending” to make a point in some way or another, so it's a significant reason Teenagers fits into the albums cohesion.

But,Teenagers isn’t just important to the album in its sound- it lyrically parallels Disenchanted in a way that effectively moves on from Sleep without losing the album’s emotional momentum. Sleep, conceptually and lyrically, is a very heavy track- its influence from the Dune soundtrack’s Final Dream turn a cinematic, swelling piece of instrumentation into an oppressive blanket of noise that bears down on the listener and the lyrics are referential to the patient believing themselves to be irredeemable and monstrous. It's also inspired directly from Gerard’s vivid and violent night terrors during his stay at the paramour- including a recording of Gerard’s recollection of those dreams, that mentions being choked, seeing loved ones die, burning alive, etc. To transition directly from such a dark, personal subject into a reflective acoustic number about the narrator’s adolescence would be tonally inappropriate and almost laughable- it would stop the progression in its tracks, while also doing a disservice to Disenchanted. Having a break is necessary! And it's even more appropriate for that break to be a song about teenagers considering Disenchanted is so nostalgic. Additionally, Teenagers brings up a really interesting narrative thread about the Patient becoming disenchanted with the youth that then directly transitions into a song about him losing faith in his values and sense of self- they are directly correlated conceptually. Looking deeper, Disenchanted is a punk song. sort of. more specifically, it is the foundation of a punk song that becomes a ballad through narrative framing- it takes punk cliches (running from the cops, the crowds, the imagery of guillotining traitorous rich celebrities) and turns them wistful and sad because the Patient is looking back at something they no longer understand or identify with, it allows the narrative to illustrate how the Patient feels like their life was worthless and didn’t amount to much and they’re just another stupid punk kid who grew up and didn’t achieve anything. and you can’t get to this point from Sleep because it would weaken Disenchanted’s impact, make it seem insignificant and petulant in the face of Sleep’s heavy and grand sorrow. Lyrically, you need Teenagers to bridge the gap between the war metaphors and the visualizations of hell and the all-encompassing nature of cancer in order to redirect the focus to the Patient and limit the scope of the narrative at the end of the album. Teenagers, within the story, then functions as the Patient reflecting on the nature of youth and, in the wake of Mama’s “we all go to hell” rhetoric, comes to the conclusion that teenagers are wholly violent, easily manipulated, and unsympathetic. It's another step in the Patient removing his own agency and viewing his life as predestined at the same time it allows the “plot” to focus back on the more nostalgic and mundane aspects of the patient’s life. Doing so makes Famous Last Words so much more significant because it forces the Patient to reconcile with his past before he can move forward (whether that's living or dying its still applicable). so, Teenagers is very important to the overall “plot” of Black Parade- it is fundamentally necessary for the pieces to fit together.

Another larger aspect of Teenagers' importance is that it introduces the fate versus free will internal debate central to the ending fourth of the record. The song lays the foundation for this thematic idea by being about the fated violence of the youth and how they cannot help but to respond to their world with anger and cruelty. This realization about adolescence by the Patient leads to him perceiving his own youth as destructive and worthless and in following the themes of guilt/regret and damnation it's this violence that began his path to hell or his current state of suffering.  In that vein, Teenagers leads into the idea that your life is predetermined or that there is a destiny that we all have (in the Patient’s case its the absence of a future, or “a lifelong wait for a hospital stay”) and no matter what, you cannot fight that. While Mama gives a blanket statement about how "we all go to hell", Disenchanted centers the Patient's specific destiny by saying his whole life has led up to his illness and, looking further, there is the implication that life before that was retrospectively pointless. So, as previously mentioned, Disenchanted begins, structurally and lyrically, as a punk song- this sort of expression of youthful existence that, in any other song or under another faster instrumentation, would fit on some basement demo from 1986. But it doesn't stay that way, instead it actively subverts the genre it's cliches are lifted from- thinking specifically about “we ran from the cops” and the “roar of the crowd” that is juxtaposed with the change in structure  or theme. Namely, punk songs (speaking generally here) aren’t wistful because there isn't really a sense of legacy in punk music. There's history yes, but most songs are about the immediacy of emotion, not existential questioning. The retrospective nature and the shift into a ballad structure are elements reflective of a change in the main character brought on by the disillusionment present in teenagers from a punk kid to a dying young man looking back on the banality of youth and the hypocrisy, the trauma and the lack of agency. It's so much easier to think that nothing matters and the perspective makes it so much easier to give up.

This build from Teenagers into Disenchanted regarding the Patient's fate allows Famous Last Words to become an even stronger end because it's in direct opposition to that perspective. Famous Last Words is a song that screams fuck fate and fuck the past- the only thing that matters is moving forward. The image of the Patient keeping on whether he’s walking into the afterlife or continuing to stay alive as long as possible becomes something difficult, something he had to fight to achieve - he had to struggle to find a new understanding. That he can't be "afraid to keep living" or "going home" and that these are concrete actions, a use of free will. And that free will is very specifically defiant. Regardless of how you view the Patient's end, he makes the conscious decision to accept the present and move forward. We are not fated to die alone, nor is life worthless. Black Parade proves that the opposite is true, that we must grow to accept the value of life, and it's so much stronger having the Patient actively reject nihilism and apathy. Ultimately, Teenagers introduces the main thread of the final songs and without it, those songs would be narrative incomplete.

So, Teenagers has a valued place on the album sonically and within the narrative whole, that much is clear. But another reason that the album order of Sleep, Teenagers and Disenchanted is important is that none of the other material written for the album comes close to filling its place. In this case, I am going to be specifically talking about the b-sides since the demos are incomplete and we have no idea what the final version would have sounded like (but I would contend they don’t fit either). Beginning with the easiest song to discard from the narrative- My Way Home Is Through You has its moments in the lyrics but it's completely out of place musically- plus the tone is a little too hopeful for this point in the album which does not gel with Disenchanted’s hopelessness. It's also incongruent with the album since Disenchanted is effective as the only “punk” song on a record that plays with and explores genre and having this come before it would ruin the previously mentioned motif of each of the songs being individual and unique in form. Also, it really adds nothing to the fate vs free will theme- meaning its placement would weaken the disenchanted/flw combo ending. Moving forward, Kill All Your Friends seems to fit, considering its cynicism and nostalgia, but the bridge (“you’ll never get me alive, you’ll never take me alive, do what it takes to survive and I'm still here") doesn’t fit the Patient’s slow decent into apathy at all and contradicts Disenchanted’s loss of faith in the idea of living- it's too hopeful and centers survival and resilience in a way that makes it an ineffective substitute for Teenagers as a bridge song. And finally, Heaven Help Us is too religiously centered- it would refocus the fate vs free will discussion in the context of god/angels when that isn’t a theme in the album up to this point (hell is the grounded point of the album- the protagonist has already accepted their fate by Mama- having a reconciliation with a lack of faith or the absence of God seems completely out of left field when its just not an established part of the narrative) Black Parade is actually one of the mcr albums with the least references to god/angels in the heavenly religious sense- more centered around the human struggle against determinism: the usage of damnation is Catholic inspired but divorced from the division of hell vs heaven and is instead about guilt and worthiness and agency. The presence of angels or god or any divinity would simply weaken the narrative by expanding the album's focus outside its own limitations. Also, the Patient isn't ever a martyred figure, if anything he is purposely pathetic. Including any comparison of the Patient to Christ ("give you all the nails you need") or a saint unravels the key feature of the Patient's character: that he is insignificant. His insignificance and his struggles with his past actions make him a character who must find the strength to live through the guilt and pain to prove that everyone is worthy of life. The overarching purpose of Black Parade is emphasizing that no matter what we've done and how dirty we feel, we can move forward and either accept our afterlife or we can find value in being alive. Because of this contradiction, Heaven Help Us destroys the central theme of the entire album if it is included. With all of this in mind, it seems to me that the b-sides are their own nebulous thing- they don’t tonally fit on Black Parade (though I do think they fit together and are interconnected thematically) but any of them would break the flow since they seem angrier and gritter in a way that is noticeably absent and would be at odds with from a lot of Parade’s resignation. They also just do not complete the narrative, they are simple not as good as Teenagers at bringing all the pieces together.

If I still haven’t convinced you, a bonus reason Teenagers is a valuable memeber of the Black Parade tracklist, Ray was the only one who believed in the song- he called it genius (x) so listen to mr chemical romance himself telling you the song is Good and Important :)

anyway now you should, at the very least respect teenagers based on a couple thematic ideas expressed here, if not also understand why it’s imperative to black parade as an album, as well as the narrative itself. <3

Work of Art. Part 1.

Heyyyyy friends so i haven’t written in a really long while because my life has been a real shit show. But now that it’s getting back to normal; I’m gonna try to write again. This a John Deacon x OC because I need me some COMFORT. And if I can’t have it I’ll write about instead. OKAY BYE. 

Warnings: Mentions of death, drunk driving, anxiety. Funerals, loss, angst angst angsty angst. 

Bouquets of flowers cluttered the dining table, counter space and foyer of the now very empty home. The smell of wilting plants invaded her lungs as she attempted to pour a bowl of cereal.

It had been five days since the funeral.  Two weeks since the accident. And what seem like an endless amount nights since her entire life fell apart. The walls were still hung with treasured photographs of the lives that had been so selfishly taken. A loving, somewhat dysfunctional family torn apart over such a stupid decision.

If I ever have the opportunity, I’ll kill him myself. That was the only phrase that ran through her head over the past week and a half.

Her parents and younger brother had been involved in a car accident, her parents killed instantly from impact. Thankfully, her brother was only banged up slightly; a broken rib and concussion. The accident was caused by a drunk driver; slamming into the Ford Cortina that had been so deeply loved by the family.

She’d heard so many people. So many voices complementing how well she was taking all of this. How strong she was for her brother; still an adolescent. How well she was keeping everything together. She could only nod and whisper a small “thank you” ; careful to not express any real emotions.

Her brother had returned to classes today; and she attempted to return to work that morning. Unable to reach the front door without a considerable amount of difficulty, her boss had recommended she take another week off.

She promised him she’d be back tomorrow morning; them both knowing full well that probably wasn’t the case.

What made matters worse; is that her childhood best friend; the love of her life… was nowhere to be found. John Deacon had become her best friend after a dare on the playground had gone sour; both too nervous to kiss the other on the lips. (The then eleven year olds promised they’d wait until they were ready. That day never came.)  Unable to form a full sentence for the first few days following the accident; she didn’t bother calling him. When Brian (the lead guitarist from his band) phoned to acknowledge his condolences; even offering to come home early from the tour to be there for her… and yet he still didn’t bother to even write. She’d wanted to feel angry. To feel upset. To be heartbroken over the fact that her best friend couldn’t make it to her parent’s joint funeral.

It was a celebration of life, really. She didn’t want people reliving her trauma for hours on end; it was enough to experience it in cinemascope every moment of every day.

The doorbell rang; jolting her out of the trance she was in. Dropping a Lily she’d picked from one of the many arrangements that had been sent to the house over the past few weeks. She was growing bored of them, really.

Knowing it was either another floral arrangement or takeaway from a concerned neighbor; she opened the door slowly.

It was neither.

John stood in front on the other side of the door frame; a single red rose outstretched to her. Her mouth dropped a bit; blinking furiously at the long haired, handsome man. His eyes met hers softly; him recognizing the pain hiding in them so effortlessly. The guard and shield did not have to be present around John. She’d been bullied, almost tormented through their years of school. For her height, untamable curly auburn hair, and freckles cascading over every free patch of skin. She’d been through the worst (or what she thought was the worst) with him. She’d been through the best next to him, too. The success of his band; her graduation from art school and subsequent portfolio showing at a fancy, London hotel. When the band really started to grow; she’d been put to the wayside. (Or so it felt that way.) The last time they’d had an actual conversation on the telephone was on her birthday, eight months ago. He’d tried to protect her from the media, from obnoxious names in the music industry who’d made fun of the lass when she’d left a party at Freddie’s one evening. He vowed to never let them hurt her again; thus distancing himself from her completely. (Even if it meant breaking his own heart in the process)

“Niamh… you look… tired.” He spoke softly, breaking the awkward silence with a knife.

“Did Brian send you?” Niamh asked flatly, letting him stand in the entryway of the house.

“Freddie mentioned it… actually.”

“Of course he did. As if the four bouquets and takeaway twice a week wasn’t enough.” Niamh rolled her eyes, attempting to quite literally shut the shy bassist out of her home.

“Niamh! You can ignore me all you want. But I’m just here to try and make sure you’re keeping yourself well. The band is concerned.” He rushed out; hoping the words would hit her ears before the door latched shut.

“And why should they be? Loss is a part of life. All of you know this.”

“They’re hoping you’ll come out on tour with us.”

“As if I don’t have a life here? As if I don’t have a brother that is LITERALLY my responsibility, John?! But of course you don’t know any of that because you’ve pushed me out of your life.”

“Life gets busy… I just…”

“You didn’t want the public to know about me. About your friendship with the ugly, freckle faced girl from a crappy part of London.” Niamh croaked.

Rain started to fall against the shutters of the once beloved home; now filled with distant memories and painful reminders of all that was lost. She motioned from him to come inside.

“I was trying to protect you, love.”

“Protect me from what, John? That’s not a fucking excuse.” She whispered tearfully, slamming the door shut. The impact of the noise making John’s shoulders jump.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.. love.”

“That’s the last thing I need to hear right now.” Niamh wrapped her arms around herself, keeping her guard up higher than usual.

“What do you need to hear? What can I do, Niamh?”

The cold, frigid exterior she kept was melting away as her heart began process what was actually happening. Her childhood best friend standing in her in her living room; the backdrop of childhood paintings and vacation photos spread across every single each of wall.

“I do believe this oil painting was created right after our first album was released.” John giggled softly, his hand brushing against the artwork.

“You never quite learned to not touch the masterpieces, hm?” Niamh joked.

The only masterpiece I want to touch is you. He thought to himself. He’d harbored feelings for Niamh longer than any one human should; unable to let her go. Unable to get the fire haired, ferocious woman out of his head. Whenever Freddie would sing the haunting lyrics of “Love of my Life.” in concerts and gigs, he’d think of the girl he’d always dreamt of kissing. The girl he knew he would spend the rest of his life pining for.

But I’d rather spend one hundred years pining after you; than losing you because of a puppy dog crush. He’d tell himself as Freddie finished out the beloved song.

“I hung all of these a couple of nights ago when I couldn’t sleep. It makes them seem closer somehow.” Niamh’s eyes filed with hot tears. She grabbed ahold of the pencil silhouette she’d done of John about one year before Queen experienced their first surge of success.

“I meant to always give you this… but… I never did because I felt like you were here with me… even when you were…”

“Countries away?”

She nodded softly.

“I miss you, Niamh. I want you in my life forever.”

“Then why did you leave in the first place John?!” She screeched, her voice almost hoarse. A hand flew over her trembling lips; stifling a sob.

“I’m so sorry… please… let me back in… anything I can do… I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t even know what I need right now.”

“Well I’ll stay until we figure it out. Together. We can have a fresh start. Together.”

She could only nod; the sobs controlling her entire being. He felt his heart shatter as he watched his best friend in such a state of misery. To see the strong, beautiful woman he’d fallen so deeply in love with, so broken and in a state of mourning. She turned to face him; her broken eyes filled with such exhaustion. Instinctively; he wrapped her in his arms. It was an awkward angle; as she quite literally towered over him at 6’4.

“As much as I enjoy holding you, I do believe this isn’t comfortable for either of us.” He suggested, nudging her side. She tipped her head back, laughing the hoarse laugh he’d treasured all of these years.

“Lets get you to bed.” He whispered, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She agreed, her body so exhausted from almost two weeks worth of little to no sleep.

Softly climbing the stairs; she’d taken the lead, wanting to retreat to her comforting bed.

He smiled at her room; unchanged since the last time he’d come to visit. The same photo from a summer night was placed on her nightstand. He had decided to play “leapfrog” only to have Niamh’s younger brother capture it on film. Gently pulling the quilts over her (what seemed tiny when she was in such a state of disbelief and heartache) frame; he kissed her forehead. Grabbing an extra pillow and blanket from the linen closet; he plopped himself down on the floor of her childhood bedroom. “The floor cannot be comfortable. You’re not seventeen anymore.”

“Still used to…”

“My Mum threatening to call your Mum if you tried any ‘funny business’ when you crashed here?” Niamh laughed.

“Come up here. It’s fine, really.” She convinced him. Thanking the gods above that he wouldn’t wake up with a stiff back; he settled in beside her.

“It feels good to have you home.” She whispered, before letting her eyes droop shut.

“Home.”

Pain

“I've been pulling on a wire, but it just won't break I've been turning up the dial, but I hear no sound I resist what I cannot change And I wanna find what can't be found”

- War on Drugs

A lot of people ask me how I come up with ideas for this blog.  Well, that’s not really true.  People rarely ask me questions about much of anything, and when they do it’s usually to ask if I know where the bathroom is.  Still, let’s pretend they do ask me about my writing process because it’s a good lead-in to this particular post.  So, I’m glad you asked how I get ideas for these posts!  Let me tell you all about it!!!

The reality is that I don’t really know what makes a good post and what doesn’t.  I probably get a couple of dozen ideas a day for posts but most just float away from my brain into the ether and are long forgotten. This whole blog came out of an exercise I started a year or so ago of daily journaling so a lot of this is just me writing my thoughts and once in a while I say to myself, let’s post that. I have written lots of stuff that has never seen the light of day and never will (believe it or not this is the filtered stuff).  Sometimes, a post starts and then sits on a shelf forever until something makes it gel later and then it becomes a post.  Other times, I just sit and write it out and hit post without thinking much at all about it.  Those are the ones full of spelling and grammatical errors but are usually the purest thoughts I have about that topic.  Then, there are the songs.

I will often hear a song, or more specifically a lyric in a song, and immediately want to write something about it.  Problem is that sometimes I don’t understand why.  I may not even know what possible subject it could be tied into.  I’ll write the song and/or lyric in a notebook, or maybe even start a post with it, and then it will just sit there.  There are a few of those sitting in my draft queue now and until today, this was one of them.  The song came out about a year-and-a-half ago and I immediately knew it was going to be a favorite of mine.  After playing it a whole bunch, I knew the lyrics were reaching me, but I didn’t know how.  It got cued up in my draft folder and I waited.

What finally broke the ice on it was a separate thing I had been thinking about a lot this week. Some of you have been following my travel blog about my recent trip to Las Vegas (if you want to read it go to jswrollthebones.tumblr.com) and you know that I have been searching for meaning about why I felt a need to take that journey and then take the next step to document the whole thing.  I began to think that there really was no reason and that I just went to have fun (I tend to overthink lots of things), but I sensed there was more to it.  I then thought about the lyrics to “Pain” and how my last two trips out there went.  The trip I took out there in 2015 was the last time my Dad went there.  He was pretty sick at that point, but still able to get around, so I wanted to get him back to a place he had loved his whole life.  I remember talking to him as a kid about it and won’t ever forget the spark in his eye when he would talk about a recent trip to Vegas.  When I graduated college, he paid for airfare and hotel for my first ever trip there myself with my buddies.  After that, we spent numerous times there always really enjoying it. It became a location that I readily associated with good times but more importantly times I got to spend with my Dad when everything else could be left behind.  That last trip in 2015 provided us one more opportunity to do that.

When we got back from that trip, I knew that we would not be able to take another one.  His physical and cognitive skills just wouldn’t allow it. At the time, I didn’t necessarily think about him dying, but I knew that things were not going to improve from that point forward and his ability to handle such a trip would be gone no matter how much longer he lived.  Needless to say, I felt some real pain after we got back.  I vowed to never go back unless somehow, someway, my Dad could go with me.  Of course, that wasn’t meant to be and he passed away early in 2017.  As a tribute, my family wanted to go back to the place he loved to celebrate the first passing of his birthday since he died (August 12th).  It seemed like a good plan, and I did enjoy some fun moments with my family during some sad times, but the pain was real.  And it wasn’t just after the trip, but I could feel it happen as I was there. I immediately turned to the substances I readily had available to numb the pain (alcohol and Ativan).  I kept it pretty under cover during the day, but once everyone went up to bed for the night I would really get rolling.  I would sit at a gaming table and order one “free” bourbon after bourbon until that pain went away.  Sometimes I got lucky and won some money, but other times I just let it go not really caring about results as long as the booze kept coming. It was an awful way to act in a place that my Dad loved so well and it certainly was no tribute to him.  Once the booze and drugs wore off, the pain was still there and I had made it worse.

After I got back from that trip, I felt awful.  It wasn’t the start of my downfall, but it certainly made it clear to me that I was in trouble.  I went into a very deep depression for a few weeks not hardly getting out of bed on some days.  When I did get up, I usually would hit the bottle or the pills after a few hours when the reality of my situation hit me.  I hid it well from friends and family, but it became clear to those close to me that I needed help.  As most of you know, I ended up in the hospital on an outpatient basis and it at least changed my life if it didn’t save it.  I came out of there with a new outlook and some better tools to deal with my problems.  I also decided while there to give up alcohol and drugs to allow my treatment to continue without interference.  In a couple of weeks, it will be almost a year since that all happened.

So how does this tie into my trip last week?  When you go through a period of sobriety, certain milestone events can be hard. Holidays, birthdays, parties, family events and the like can be hard to face sober for the first time.  Then if you are mourning a recent death like I was you will have to get through their milestone days (birthdays, anniversaries, Fathers’ Day, etc.) without a drink or anything else to help you forget it. For the first time on this particular trip, I was letting myself feel the pain head on versus deferring it through numbing agents to avoid feeling what I really was feeling.  A couple of months ago when some good friends suggested a trip to Vegas, I realized that was one of the last places I would need to go to conquer some of my demons as a sober person.  I knew it would be a huge challenge, which is why I booked a few days ahead of time to be there by myself to work through whatever process I needed to work through before they showed up.  I kept myself busy with fun activities that kept me away from some of the temptations, but most of the time I just allowed myself to feel happy when I was having fun, and sad when I started thinking about my Dad.  Once a feeling passed, it was amazing to see that the pain started to fade.  Before I wasn’t able to tackle it head on, but now I was letting it have its moment and then I was done with it.  By the time my friends got to town I felt refreshed and ready to enjoy their company. We had a great time and I’m happy to report that my sobriety stayed fully intact.

When I got home, it took me a couple of days to put this all together.  Part of the reason for that is that I came home so relaxed and didn’t understand why.  I came back the last couple times such a mess, but this time, through some perseverance, I turned that around.  For the past few days, instead of regretting my time spent in Las Vegas, I am instead relishing the week-long sabbatical I took there.  It’s an odd place for sure to have such and experience, but it worked for me and it was worth the time and money spent to do it.  As for the journaling of the whole thing, that was just a way for me to hold myself accountable and not let the experience float away (or worse allow me to devolve back to my old ways).  One powerful lesson that I learned in the hospital was through an exercise where we journaled and then they made us read it out load to the rest of the group.  This blog, and the Vegas blog, serve that purpose and allow me to basically read my journaled thoughts out loud to whomever decides to read this.  It's just another tool in dealing with the pain.

I never know when I’m done with one of these posts if this is going to make sense to anyone and I am particularly unsure about this one.  But I am going to post it anyway as I think that it is necessary for me to be open and honest about my feelings as I come up on a year of sobriety and a commitment to treating my mental health issues as well as I possibly can.  It seems indulgent, just like the whole Vegas blog did, but I take solace in the fact that no one reading this has been forced to do so.  If anything, I hope you can take away from this that while facing whatever pain you have head on my sound scary or even insane, it is actually the best thing you can do for yourself.  The process may not always be pleasant, but I’m confident you will be pleased with the end result.  I’m not suggesting you can make all pain go away, but by at least acknowledging it exists will allow you to begin to understand why you hurt.  Without that, there is no chance you’ll ever make it go away. It took me many years and a lot of pain to figure that out, but hopefully you can get there quicker than I did and start living life as pain-free as you can.  Or, at least understand what to do about pain the next time it shows up at your door and learn to coexist with it.

As always, thank you again for letting me do this and for those of you that read the Vegas blog and put up with my silliness over there.  I don’t say this enough (not at all actually), but those that read this blog mean a lot to me even if I don’t really know who you are.  My goal with this is to continue to try and spread the hope that life can be enjoyed and celebrated whether the times are good or bad. We just have to learn how to deal with what comes our way and I continue to find it my calling to bring that message to as many people as I can.  

Enjoy the rest of your weekend,

Jim