Please, Don't Hate Me.

Fuddface2222's picture

Please, Don't Hate Me.

Inside is the first chapter of a fanfic I wrote. Normally, I wouldn't post it, but I feel very confident about this one.
Here goes:

Of course, this isn't a true story- oh, no. This is a fantasy this author plays out in her head constantly, because she feels her life is inadequate. Which means I'm not actually Gerard Way, artist, writer, world famous singer. No, I'm just a generic extension of The Ellie's mind, sent to produce a slightly more knowing narrative. In reality, I'm just giving you another lazy introduction.

And this airport I'm standing in, this airport is a carbon copy of St. Louis's Lambert International, because she's never set foot in LAX, let alone California. HELL, the closest she's come to California is an overpriced excuse for pizza. Naturally, I'm waiting here for character number two, Mazy Bacard, and she happens to be a perfect reflection of The Ellie. A good example?

You see those shoes on Mazy's feet? Well, those are custom made, size eight, Xtra-hi floral Converse. About two months ago, The Ellie stole about a day's pay from her step dad and ordered those offline. And those lime green fake gauges? She bought those last weekend at her local mall, where she was originally going to buy more interesting nose studs. If you need anymore proof of this, Mazy's drinking a caramel Frapuccino with a double shot of espresso, the young author's favorite drink, and so am I.

Like I said, we're both just extensions of who the author thinks she is. So much so that I'm a mirror of Bullets, with the personality of Black Parade- happy, but only slightly. I was promised to meet Mazy here, because of a contest she won that allows her to live in my house for two weeks. How very convenient that she be the winner, I dare say.

This brings us back to present time, where I'm waiting inside a Starbucks for a girl I've never seen, waiting for her to approach me and get this over with. But she doesn't. Instead, I spot a young girl with cropped black hair, staring intently at innocent bystanders. With any luck, this is where our story begins.