Category Linkin Park
Standing Pretty
To broken to be fixed.
Okay, this is some lyrics I have written for my bands first album! Yep, we got signed. Be proud, people! Anyway, these lyrics are credited to ‘Fallen From Grace.’ My band. So enjoy, people.
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The loud crashes as they fell
She never will erase
The lives that were lost that day
The tears running down her face
I stood outside in the middle of the driveway, rain beating down on my shoulders and tears running through my eyes. She really meant it this time. She really meant the words she screamed at me as I tried to wrap my arms around her, tried to calm her down. But things were different this time. She meant what she said; she wasn’t just saying it in the heat of the argument. She actually meant it. She actually hates me. She actually thinks I’m disgusting and that I don’t deserve anyone’s time. She thinks these things, which hurts me. I never once thought these things about her.
I remember the first time I saw her, she was at a show I did when I was still in Gray Daze, and I saw her in the front row. I fell for her that very instant; she smiled at me as her body moved with the music, losing herself in it. My eyes were pinned on her for the whole show; I was unable to look away besides the times she looked at me. I felt that when she did, when she caught me staring at her my world froze. And it did.
I looked for her in the crowd as they left that night, pushing my way through the sea of people as they pushed against me, knocking me from side to side. I eventually saw her against the wall, beer bottle in hand and talking to one of her friends. I continued to make my way through, pushing the people as I edged closer to the girl.
“I’m Chester.”
“I’m Samantha.”
A once great city
Now torn to shreds
This day never should have come
This shouldn't be in her head
I walk back into the house as the black estate drives out of sight, Draven looking out the back window wailing for me. His daddy. I don’t know where she is going, although I wish I did. Probably over to Anna’s. Of course, Mike won’t let me go over, tell me she isn’t there. He wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of Anna. Neither would I, come to think of it.
I walk inside of my empty home, letting my coat slide off my shoulders onto the floor, not caring to put it up on the hanger. It’d b so nice if it was like those fan fiction stories I used to read, but it isn’t. This is reality. This is what I have to face. What I have to face on my own. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I walk through to the kitchen, looking through the cupboards until I find the one I am looking for. I glance amongst the various poisons I had stocked up for the guy’s poker games. But I guess I won’t need them now. After all, I am disgusting. I am nothing but dirt. I am nothing but another face in the crowd, another notch on her belt. It kills me to know that I am the one who fell, I built my walls up to watch others fall and crumble before me, and Sam was the only person I let in. And she tore my walls down. I worked hard at building them. I gave up a lot to feel the security I felt when I was with people. And that’s gone, just like her and my son. Gone. And never coming back.
But now, here,
She's standing pretty
In the dark dust
That was her great city
I take a swig from one of the bottles, feeling it burn the back of my throat like acid. I don’t bother to look at the label, who cares? It’s not like it is going to effect me later. Because I won’t be here later. I will watch them fall as they see me, what I subjected myself to. What I let her subject me to. All because of the past. But then again, scars are here to remind us that the past is real, this time the wound is bleeding too hard. The body is losing blood.
I walk slowly up the stairs, holding onto the railing with my right hand. As the memories of times with Samantha flood through my head I make my way towards the bathroom, my glasses slipping slightly as I staggered. I hadn’t drunk in ages; she made me give that up when we had Draven. She made me give a lot of things up. I admit that I love my song, but she expects me to live up to these expectations and standards . . .I couldn’t do it.
Alcohol now seems to be my best friend, my soul mate. It’s always there when you need it, through the good times and the bad times. There are so many different types that you are spoilt for choice. And you never fight with it. It’s all good when you have a few beers alone.
I walk into the bathroom, flicking the light switch on. The gleam from the white tiles is almost blinding. I shut the door, locking it behind me. I always lock the door; I don’t like the thought of people walking in on me.
The bathroom is fairly cold, and the scent of Draven’s lavender bubble bath washes over me. I had always loved his bubble bath, tried to use it myself. But Sam yelled me at. Sam always yelled me at.
She clutches her flag
And holds it up high
Because freedom will ring
There'll be no more goodbyes
And I guess now she has won. She got what she wanted. She took everything away from right under me; I was to blind to even watch myself fall. And now I can’t pick up the pieces, some things can never be repaired. And I know this is one thing, we are too broken to be helped, fixed.
“What would have made you stay, Sam?” I ask, opening the drawer. “But now I guess we’ll never know.”
I pull out one of the razors, watching it in all its glory. The bathroom light beamed of the blades, adding to its beauty. It was amazing what one little bit of metal could do. It was amazing how much pleasure and release it could provide. I had cut very rarely before now, well . . .I was a heavy cutter in my teens. But my 20’s were a completely different story.
She made me quit, she made me stay alive. She seemed to be my one reason for living. But then along came Xero. This band would change our lives forever. And I thought it was for the better, that things were going to be good after this, but she wouldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let me do the one thing I wanted, the one thing that brought us together and the one thing that will tear us apart.
I’m leaning against the bathroom wall, the cold tiles against my back. I remember being here before, but old habits die hard, right? Once a cutter, always a cutter.
But now, here,
She's standing pretty
In the dark dust
That was her great city
And now I’m sitting down, the blade at my wrist. It’s breaking my heart to have to do this again, to have to result to this. But remember she drove me to it, Chester. It’s not your fault.
The blade slices gently into my skin, small splodges of blood appearing almost instantly. I smile in relief, knowing that if it were that easy to get the blood to appear then it wouldn’t be too hard to go deeper. It had been so long since I have done this that I have almost forgotten the pain and pleasure it caused. I had almost forgotten about the unforgiving scars that lay across my wrist under my colourful tattoos. But that’s what time does, it can make you forget until something . . .or someone makes you remember. And it bites you in the ass when it comes back, because you have done all you can to convince yourself it’s over, that the past is behind you and your safe from yourself. But truth is, your not. You’re never safe from yourself. Because though you think you have control of your life and truth is, your not. You never will be.
I watch the small river of blood trickle down my arm, onto my hand and over my fingers. I place the blade in the other hand, giving the other wrist the same treatment. I wish things were different.
But now, here,
She's standing pretty
In the dark dust
That was her great city
People today would be better off with out me. After all, rock is the new pop, hoodies are the new black and suddenly everyone is an individual. Well, all accept me. I will fade away like a burnt photograph. Because in the end that is all I am. Some CD’s, interviews and live shows. I’m no one special. Not really. People don’t see that side of me. And judging from the position I am in now, they never will.
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Sorry, I needed to write. The 2nd chapter of ‘Can He trust?’ should be up in a few hours. And Goober, I will write your fic.
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