Dear journal.

Today was the day I died...

Okay, so maybe that's a bit dramatic, but still.

Today at lunch I went to the bathroom and while I was in there I heard someone throwing up, like it sounded like they were puking up their insides.
When I went to check to see who it was, I found out it was Gerard.

They... Uh, I mean, he looked terrible. Wow, it feels weird saying he when I've called him "they" for so long. Anyways, he looked terribly ill. I was shocked. I helped him up, placed him up on one of the sinks and asked what was wrong. He shook his head and refused to tell me what was up, obviously because he doesn't talk a whole lot.

I tried comforting him by lightly placing a hand of his thigh, but he jumped and pushed me away.

I took note of the faded scars on his wrists that showed from under the slighty shorter than usual sleeved of his sweater.
Then I thought and took a look at how thin he was, that and the fact that he was ill. I asked him very politely if he had an eating disorder, and he hesately nodded. My heart stopped.

How could such a beautiful, innocent person like Gerard Way be both commiting self harm and have an eating problem? It made my heart hurt just thinking about it.

I wanted to hug him so badly and tell him that he's beautiful and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him or the way he looked, but he ran out before I could.

He's not okay, I'm sure of that.

- Frank Iero, Apr 14.