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Description
And that was that, I guess… The pills weren't working, and so there wasn't anything left to do except put that big old kitchen knife to her throat.  Or fly off the top of that big bank building downtown.  Or take then entire bottle of those lovely little pills that were supposed to make everything better.
I slunk across the floor of the house, silent at three in the morning, and unmoving under the silver moonlight except for me, trudging along with the bottle of pills in my hands.  I laughed a little at the irony.
These pills… this medication was supposed to make my life brighter and take away the depression and pain.  They hadn't done their job, so they were being commissioned by me to perform one final fling.  A contract kill that'd relieve the pain permanently.  Seemed about right, to end a futile life that I was tired of living.  I'm a fish in a barrel anyways; waiting to be picked out by the stronger, better part of society.  I'd never last a day in the real, adult world anyway, so I might as well end it here.  Seventeen years is long enough.
I was in the kitchen suddenly, observing the slivers of moonlight that had escaped the barrier of blinds on the single window in the kitchen.  I guess I had walked there, I didn't give much of a damn anyhow.
I smelled the faint scent of bleach cleaner that remained from last nights after-dinner dishes, and the refrigerator hummed quietly in the dark.
Hmm…bleach.  Nah, that'd be kind of painful I think.  Who gives a damn?  I deserve as much pain as I can get.  I'll just stick with a knife I guess.  That's enough pain for me.
I wandered over to the counter, mindlessly picking a knife out of the knife block; a decent sized butcher knife like the ones always used in those horror movies.  Leaning up against the counter, I started thinking; should I leave a note?
No, no one's gonna miss you anyway.
Should I tell someone?
Who is there to tell that wouldn't try to stop you?
What am I doing?
You're ending the endless pain…once and for all.
With my butt up against the edge of the counter surface, I flipped the knife over in my hands.  It reflected the moonlight and bounced it off the walls and cupboards behind me.  A radio sat next to me, its red power light turned off.
Maybe one last song wouldn't hurt.
Making sure the volume was on really low, so as not to wake the parents up, I flipped the switch on and the power light glowed bright red.  It was still in commercials, but just barely.
A few seconds later, after a nice, catchy little tune for a bank or something, the announcer did his announcing thing;  "Now back to the awesome tunes of today, for your late night rock and roll!  I'll let all you hardcore guys and gals out there guess which band this is!  Hint; This alternative rock band started in 2001 in Newark, New Jersey.  Caller 8 after the song wins a free 108.5 tee and bragging rights, but enough talk, lets rock!"
The voice faded away to soft piano playing.  I scrunched my eyebrows.
This doesn't sound like rock.
I flipped the knife over again in my hands, as the vocals started; a young, seemingly shaky voice came in to existence over the radio waves.
"When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city to see a marching band."
Not bad, I guess.
"He said, 'Son, when you grow up, would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned?"
…
"He said will you defeat them, your demons, and all the non-believers?  The plans that they have made?  Because one day, I'll leave you.  A phantom, to lead you in the city?  To join the Black Parade."
I was listening now, maybe even with half a mind.  The voice had gotten more stern, and sounded like a singer now.  There were guitars in the background and drums, and all the other instruments you'd need to make a good rock band.  The vocals continued:
"Sometimes I get the feeling, she's watching over me
And other times I feel like I should go.
And through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets.
And when you're gone, we want you all to know
We'll carry on
We'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone, believe me, your memory will carry on.
We'll carry on.
And in my heart I can't contain it, the anthem won't explain it."
Wow, I actually liked this rhythm.  The lyrics weren't bad either, and the singer had a nice voice.
"And while that sends you reeling, from decimated dreams.
Your misery and hate will kill us all.
So paint it black, and take it back, let's shout it loud and clear.
Do you fight it to the end?
We hear the call, to carry on!
We'll carry on!
And though you're dead and gone, believe me
Your memory will carry on, we'll carry on
And though you're broken and defeated
You're weary widow marches on!

Now it got a bit grittier sounding, and I was paying almost full attention.

On and on we carry through the fears
Disappointed faces of your peers
Take a look at me
'Cause I could not care at all

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Though you try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part

Won't explain or say I'm sorry
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar
Give a cheer for all the broken
Listen here, because it's only

I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
Just a boy who wanna sing his song
Just a man, I'm not a hero
I
Don't
Care!

I could feel it… I could feel the song, and the meaning behind it, and how the author felt when he wrote it.  I knew what he meant, and understood what he felt.
I got it.
We'll carry on, we'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone, believe me
Your memory will carry on, you'll carry on
And though you're broken and defeated
You're weary widow marches on

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Though you try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
We'll carry on

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world
will never take my heart
Though you try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
We'll carry on!

I put the knife down on the counter as the announcer revealed the title.
"You just heard 'Welcome to the Black Parade', by My Chemical Romance!  This band was started in 2001, by lead singer Gerard Way, and lead guitarist Ray Toro.  Caller number 8, you were right, congrats!-"
As this lucky person played a happy voice over the radio, I quickly shut it off and thought a bit.
My Chemical Romance, huh?  Well, My Chemical Romance, you seem to know a bit about depression, and how bad things can get.  Gerard, I guess you probably know a thing or two about suicide.
I pushed the knife away.
God…what was I doing?   I was going to end it all, thinking I was alone, wasn't I?  I was going to end it all, and take myself away from everyone who loved me.
My
Chemical
Romance
Maybe I should look them up…they have good music.
As I turned to the computer room, making my way silently to it, something clicked in my brain.  Suicide would have been a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
Maybe this whole music thing really could save my life.

"NOTHING IS WORTH HURTING YOURSELF OVER NO MATTER HOW SHITTY THINGS ARE GOING"
-GERARD WAY

Description
And that was that, I guess… The pills weren't working, and so there wasn't anything left to do except put that big old kitchen knife to her throat.  Or fly off the top of that big bank building downtown.  Or take then entire bottle of those lovely little pills that were supposed to make everything better.
I slunk across the floor of the house, silent at three in the morning, and unmoving under the silver moonlight except for me, trudging along with the bottle of pills in my hands.  I laughed a little at the irony.
These pills… this medication was supposed to make my life brighter and take away the depression and pain.  They hadn't done their job, so they were being commissioned by me to perform one final fling.  A contract kill that'd relieve the pain permanently.  Seemed about right, to end a futile life that I was tired of living.  I'm a fish in a barrel anyways; waiting to be picked out by the stronger, better part of society.  I'd never last a day in the real, adult world anyway, so I might as well end it here.  Seventeen years is long enough.
I was in the kitchen suddenly, observing the slivers of moonlight that had escaped the barrier of blinds on the single window in the kitchen.  I guess I had walked there, I didn't give much of a damn anyhow.
I smelled the faint scent of bleach cleaner that remained from last nights after-dinner dishes, and the refrigerator hummed quietly in the dark.
Hmm…bleach.  Nah, that'd be kind of painful I think.  Who gives a damn?  I deserve as much pain as I can get.  I'll just stick with a knife I guess.  That's enough pain for me.
I wandered over to the counter, mindlessly picking a knife out of the knife block; a decent sized butcher knife like the ones always used in those horror movies.  Leaning up against the counter, I started thinking; should I leave a note?
No, no one's gonna miss you anyway.
Should I tell someone?
Who is there to tell that wouldn't try to stop you?
What am I doing?
You're ending the endless pain…once and for all.
With my butt up against the edge of the counter surface, I flipped the knife over in my hands.  It reflected the moonlight and bounced it off the walls and cupboards behind me.  A radio sat next to me, its red power light turned off.
Maybe one last song wouldn't hurt.
Making sure the volume was on really low, so as not to wake the parents up, I flipped the switch on and the power light glowed bright red.  It was still in commercials, but just barely.
A few seconds later, after a nice, catchy little tune for a bank or something, the announcer did his announcing thing;  "Now back to the awesome tunes of today, for your late night rock and roll!  I'll let all you hardcore guys and gals out there guess which band this is!  Hint; This alternative rock band started in 2001 in Newark, New Jersey.  Caller 8 after the song wins a free 108.5 tee and bragging rights, but enough talk, lets rock!"
The voice faded away to soft piano playing.  I scrunched my eyebrows.
This doesn't sound like rock.
I flipped the knife over again in my hands, as the vocals started; a young, seemingly shaky voice came in to existence over the radio waves.
"When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city to see a marching band."
Not bad, I guess.
"He said, 'Son, when you grow up, would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned?"
…
"He said will you defeat them, your demons, and all the non-believers?  The plans that they have made?  Because one day, I'll leave you.  A phantom, to lead you in the city?  To join the Black Parade."
I was listening now, maybe even with half a mind.  The voice had gotten more stern, and sounded like a singer now.  There were guitars in the background and drums, and all the other instruments you'd need to make a good rock band.  The vocals continued:
"Sometimes I get the feeling, she's watching over me
And other times I feel like I should go.
And through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets.
And when you're gone, we want you all to know
We'll carry on
We'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone, believe me, your memory will carry on.
We'll carry on.
And in my heart I can't contain it, the anthem won't explain it."
Wow, I actually liked this rhythm.  The lyrics weren't bad either, and the singer had a nice voice.
"And while that sends you reeling, from decimated dreams.
Your misery and hate will kill us all.
So paint it black, and take it back, let's shout it loud and clear.
Do you fight it to the end?
We hear the call, to carry on!
We'll carry on!
And though you're dead and gone, believe me
Your memory will carry on, we'll carry on
And though you're broken and defeated
You're weary widow marches on!

Now it got a bit grittier sounding, and I was paying almost full attention.

On and on we carry through the fears
Disappointed faces of your peers
Take a look at me
'Cause I could not care at all

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Though you try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part

Won't explain or say I'm sorry
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar
Give a cheer for all the broken
Listen here, because it's only

I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
Just a boy who wanna sing his song
Just a man, I'm not a hero
I
Don't
Care!

I could feel it… I could feel the song, and the meaning behind it, and how the author felt when he wrote it.  I knew what he meant, and understood what he felt.
I got it.
We'll carry on, we'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone, believe me
Your memory will carry on, you'll carry on
And though you're broken and defeated
You're weary widow marches on

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Though you try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
We'll carry on

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world
will never take my heart
Though you try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
We'll carry on!

I put the knife down on the counter as the announcer revealed the title.
"You just heard 'Welcome to the Black Parade', by My Chemical Romance!  This band was started in 2001, by lead singer Gerard Way, and lead guitarist Ray Toro.  Caller number 8, you were right, congrats!-"
As this lucky person played a happy voice over the radio, I quickly shut it off and thought a bit.
My Chemical Romance, huh?  Well, My Chemical Romance, you seem to know a bit about depression, and how bad things can get.  Gerard, I guess you probably know a thing or two about suicide.
I pushed the knife away.
God…what was I doing?   I was going to end it all, thinking I was alone, wasn't I?  I was going to end it all, and take myself away from everyone who loved me.
My
Chemical
Romance
Maybe I should look them up…they have good music.
As I turned to the computer room, making my way silently to it, something clicked in my brain.  Suicide would have been a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
Maybe this whole music thing really could save my life.

"NOTHING IS WORTH HURTING YOURSELF OVER NO MATTER HOW SHITTY THINGS ARE GOING"
-GERARD WAY