Things have been changing around here. Gerard has short, white hair, for starters. But, he and the others have been very busy recently and now I know why.

"Let us know when you're done," he told me, handing me a pair of headphones. I sat in my room alone with the lights turned off, letting the music wash over me.

He said I was one of the first people to listen to their new album, The Black Parade, the whole way through. I may have cried on more than one occasion while I was listening. The moment that got to me the most is when I recognized 'Sleep' as the song he hummed to me as I fell asleep the night of my panic attack.

Other than that, what can I say? I'm a proud daughter.

Also, it was just fucking amazing. Really, I'm speechless.

I leave my room and go straight the the living room where I find the guys hanging out, waiting for me. I put the headphones Gee gave me on the coffee table and collapse onto the couch and just stare at the wall. They're all looking at me expectantly, but I'm speechless, remember?

"What's she doing?" Frank whispers loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I don't know," Mikey whispers back.

"Did we break her?" Ray asks no one in particular.

"I think so," Gee nods once then crouches in front of me, "Evelyn, blink once if you're okay."

I keep staring at the wall, fighting a smile. I think he can tell. But hey, there's one thing I'm good at, I guess; not blinking. I could beat any of these guys in a staring contest, I bet.

"It's official, guys," Gee stands up again, looking around at the others, "She's broken. The Black Parade killed her."

"I guess you could say I'm... Dead!" Come on, I couldn't pass up that opportunity.

"Are you not okay?" Mikey chimes in.

"Do you promise?" Frank adds.

"Guys, I'm dead," I sigh, "I think it's safe to say I'm not o-fucking-kay."

Gerard laughs. "But you liked it?" He asks.

"No." It doesn't have the falsely disappointing effect I was hoping for as I can't keep a straight face, so I quickly add, "I loved it!"

I jump up off the couch and hug them each in turn, saving Frank for last. When I get to him I stick out my hand instead just to see what he'll do. He looks down at it confused, grabs it hesitantly, and we shake hands. I can't keep the smile off my face.

"You're a weird kid, you know that?" He laughs then pulls me into a hug.

"Yep," I say simply.

"So, Eve, I have another thing for you to review," Gee says. "Wait here." He goes to the kitchen and comes back with a cardboard box. The other guys gather around him excitedly.

"They came!?" Ray asks eagerly.

"Yeah," Gee nods, opening up the box.

I watch, puzzled. What could this be? And he said he wanted me to review it? What?

Ray is the first to pull something out of the box. It's a super cool looking jacket (you know the ones). Frank, Mikey, and then Gerard each pull one out of the box too and they all put them on.

"Rad." Frank says admiring his jacket.

"So, what do you think, Eve?" Gee asks me.

"I think they look great. Like, really, really cool." I say. I really do mean it.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he says. He pulls another one out of the now empty box which he drops off to the side, then hands me the jacket.

"Why do I get one?" I wonder aloud, but I put it on anyway. It's a tiny bit loose, but it's really comfortable and I think I look badass.

Gee smiles and ruffles my hair, "You're part of the Black Parade too."

• • •

The Black Parade was officially released October 23rd. But, not before My Chemical Romance was the musical guest on Saturday Night Live two days prior.

They let me go to the rehearsal, but I felt kind of awkward just sitting offstage, surrounded by dozens of people who out-ranked me in every way.

Some of them tried to talk to me. They introduced themselves, my hands trembled as we greeted each other with my classic awkward handshake. I barely managed to catch anyone's name. There was a Bill, I think. And an Andy.

"Hey, my name's Andy Samberg," he said.

"Evelyn," I said back quietly, "Evelyn Way."

"Oh, you're a Way?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

I nod, "Gerard adopted me."

The conversation didn't last long, but I think it was my fault. I was being too quiet and I'm not good at keeping a conversation going. Everyone must've known how overwhelmed and kind of confused as to how I got there I was judging by the expression I'm sure sat on my face. They thought right.

I couldn't help but think about how this is my life now. Just a couple months ago I was lonely all the time, I stayed in my room way too often, I had no friends. Now I have Emerald, a famous dad, and I'm watching him and his band rehearse for live TV. Wild.

They sounded great, at least.

During the actual show I stayed in a hotel while they were gone. Gerard said I could go along and they'd find somewhere for me to chill, but I insisted I'd be fine until they came back later that night. It was cool getting to see them on TV, anyway.

Still, even with all these amazing things happening, I can't help but feel sad often. Empty would be a better word. I haven't said anything about it, though. I'm not sure Gerard would understand, or even take me seriously enough to do anything about it. Instead, I just project all my feelings into measuring and counting everything I eat, exercising, and generally hating my body. All in secret, of course.

It goes unsaid; the few hours in the hotel room alone have been pretty depressing.

With the TV on in the background, I decide to write a poem on a notepad I find on a table. It doesn't rhyme, but I don't think poems have to rhyme.

It's not laziness. I'm far from lazy.

It's just a cloud that materializes when you're stuck, suffocating under piles of sheets.

Yes, physically, but also by thoughts.

Why?

How?

When?

You will always be asking when.

"When will this end?"

"When will my life truly begin?"

The answer is never if you don't get out of bed.

But what force is strong enough to break this spell?

It won't just melt away like in a film that ejects false hope onto already hopeless people.

Like in a movie that's supposed to lift your spirits, just for a little while.

But, when the lights dimmed it made no difference, and when they came back on it was as dark as ever.

The dreamy feeling never did cease.

No, not the one our "damsel in distress" felt when she made eye contact with her knight in shining armour.

No.

They wouldn't understand.

Explanations are now lost in translation.

The language you speak is too gloomy for their filtered minds that only care about first world problems and self and first world problems.

No matter.

The accusation you make will inevitably hurt the target.

But don't worry, it won't sting as badly as your own anger.

When it dribbles down blank canvas once again expressing the question, When?"

The answer is once again never, because you still haven't gotten out of bed.

After what feels like hours of writing, I hear the door to the room click and Gee walks in very quietly seconds later. "Oh, you're still awake!"

"Hi, Gee," I plaster on a smile.

"Did you watch the whole thing?" He asks.

"Yep. You guys did great." He's tired, but still seems really happy. It isn't infecting me like it usually does, though, but I can't ruin this night for him. So, I just stuff the poem into my pocket.

• • •

yeah that was kind of all over the place... did I write this just so I could include Andy Samberg? maybe.

Alsoooo I wrote that poem so uhhh... I hope it was ok?