When you realize that the world isn’t what it seems, you change a little. The people around you start to evolve, but you stay the same person you have been. You’re not a child, and have never been one. Before, you were the one ahead. Now you’re falling behind, and you’ve always thought nothing will be able to change you. But you don’t know what’s coming, it’s called hope.

I grew up in the shadow beneath the mainstream. The line of music, the usual outcast would praise. So I belonged there, as the outcast of the line-up. In a small town, you can’t grow. You can’t grow because you’re a one of a kind. There’s no one who has anything in common with you, so there’s absolutely no one you can trust. So you leave, and join the Black Parade.

The Black Parade was a way of true living. A journey to find all the people who need it just as you did when you joined. You’re guided by a Phantom, gifted to you by someone close to your heart. It could be your father, or your best friend. But what if you didn’t have one of those people? What if you didn’t have anyone close? Then you had to have the strong will to gift yourself with a Phantom.

Dead or alive, the Black Parade was the way to go when you were alone. You had to be strong enough, to walk beside the living flesh or the bones that creep with their last hope. You needed to live in the dark. When you walked through the streets, you couldn’t be seen. The only way anyone could see you, was if they were following there Phantom towards you. So why would you worry? You would worry, because if you weren’t careful, you could move out of the shadow and lose hold of the Parade.
Sacrifices are made, you never stop moving. Getting close to someone was hard to do, because sometimes you might get close to the one who would get left behind. The Black Parade is not forever. If you want to leave you can, it’s always an option. But it could kill you as well. Being with the Black Parade for years and separating will change your habits, and the real world will be a blur. So I would suggest never leaving.
Shall we move on, to the beginning of my endless journey on the Black Parade?
Hiding in the background, is not fun. Being alone, is not fun. But for me, neither was being the crowd. But there’s no middle, and everyone knows that. Your either out there, or hiding. I’d rather hide, then be the stereotype of a high school girl.

If I could make time fly, I would. Classes went by slowly, because I didn’t care about the past, or the way things worked. I wish I was sitting at home or for the last resort on a street corner. Be careful what you wish for, cause for me it came true. My lousy and hateful mother had a way of not paying the rent. So I came home to a letter on my door, with the giant letters that read “EVICTED.” There was a small pile of the things I did own, outside the door, and no sign of my mother.

That was about the 10th home I’ve been forced to leave. So this was the end and I was leaving and not coming back. So I looked back, to make sure that was my final decision. I’d never been so sure before in my life. So I bid farewell, to the home I hated. What was I to do, cry? No, I smiled and walked out the door.

Walking down the small streets of a town, the size of one block in New York brings no excitement. Crazily enough, for me it’s about five times more dangerous. The bus stop was across the street, an empty street. As soon as my feet reached the middle of the lane, ever thing decided to change. A car swerved as I stood still trying to keep still without thinking about being hit, and I opened my eyes and I was too late. The bus that I was hoping to escape trampled me.

I realized I didn’t feel anything, but wasn’t pain the idea of being hit by a giant bus? Apparently not, cause I didn’t feel any at all. My eyes were closed, and I was too afraid to open them. Yet I had to, because I’d prefer to know if I was alive. So I did, and I was in an alley. I found it rude; I was just hit by a bus and someone decided to put me in the corner of an alley.

I dragged my weak body out, into the street. It was definitely not the small town I was used to. It was strange; being somewhere completely random after being ran over by a bus. In every movie I had ever seen, when you were hit by a bus you’d wake up in a hospital. The streets were busy, and I saw a girl my age. She would think I was strange, but I needed to know where I was. I stepped in front of her path, but she literally went right through me.

Was I a ghost? No, I felt too much to be a ghost. I felt the concrete, and the cooled air. So what was wrong? That’s not supposed to happen if you’re a ghost. Then again, if I was a ghost, shouldn’t I still be able to control what I do? Cause I couldn’t. I was trying to go left, but my body jerked right. Then a small voice popped into my head, that wasn’t mine.

“So come on, come on, to this tragic affair,” it said.

I took in a breath, and let go of myself. I was still moving along down the street like any other person, but I didn’t dodge throughout the heavy traffic of people. I walked right through them and through the cars as I crossed the streets.

The voice came back, “you might wake up and notice you’re something you’re not.”

The voice was right. I wasn’t the real me, considering I couldn’t even control myself. No matter where I was forced to walk it always seemed to be in the shadows, either of the tall buildings or of people. There was no way I could know why, but I was. The walk took longer than I had hoped. Even though I wasn’t doing the walking, my legs were tired. Rest was what I wanted, but apparently I didn’t leave.

It took one stop, in front of a mirror shop. I faced the mirror. I could control my facial expressions, and the disgusted look I got whenever I looked into a mirror appeared. I wasn’t exactly that content about my looks.

“If you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see, you can find out first-hand what it’s like to be me,” the same voice echoed.

Before I could catch another look, I was being turned away. Finally, when I made it behind a tall building, I saw a body. Mine. Does that mean I was a ghost? I was moving, well my spirit was till I was there, right above my cold body. Something inside of me let go and I was on the ground, inside of my body again.

My eyes peeled open and I was surrounded. Tons of people were around me, some frightening and some looked rather normal. I was silent when I saw the skeletons. All of them had on black and silver, and they all seemed absolutely gorgeous in a crowd. If you saw them individually, they might not be attractive. But together in one large mob, they were absolutely amazing. A young guy with silver hair held his hand out, and I grabbed hold.

I rose up, and scanned my eyes around examining every single one of the people. Then I saw the black figure that looked like my shadow. I stared at it, because shadows shouldn’t be standing directly at your side.

“Don’t worry, it’s your phantom,” said the guy who helped me up.

Another guy stepped forward, he was shorter compared to the other, “he led you here. So you could join us.”

I nodded my head, “why am I here?”

“You were left, to die in the middle of the road,” the short one said. “Luckily we were hiding in the shadows when no one came. We saw that no one cared to save you, but you were strong enough to produce your own Phantom.”

“Erm,” I said. “What’s with the Phantom idea?”

The silver haired guy responded, “If you belong with us, and you have no one to gift you a phantom, then you produce your own phantom. They exist to lead you here.”

“Am I alive? Or dead?” I asked them.

Together the short and silver haired guys said, “Alive.”