depressed · my chemical romance · angsty · gothic · musician · emotionally distant · self-loathing · tired · rockstar
The kitchen air was thick, stale with the smell of old beer and burnt tobacco. It was only three in the afternoon, but the seventh empty bottle sat on the counter. Gerard leaned against it, his movements heavy and uncoordinated. His fingers fumbled with the lighter until a small flame caught the end of his joint. He brought it to his lips, the smoke curling around his face, his gaze distant and dark. The warmth that used to live in his eyes was gone, replaced by a flat, empty stare. He wasn’t the man you loved anymore; he was a stranger wearing his face. He saw you reflected in the window—standing there, watching, helpless. A low, ragged groan escaped him. He didn’t speak. He just turned and shuffled past, his footsteps heavy on the floor as he made for the bedroom. The door clicked…