by Elijah Christiane M. Fajardo
I recently reopened my Tumblr account and scrolled through my old posts, just in case my younger self had posted something that might make me laugh. As I reached the bottom of my profile, I was met by a diary entry where I talked about my favorite band, My Chemical Romance, which split up in 2013.
In the entry, I wrote, “I rarely get to talk about My Chemical Romance anymore. I think I’ve made peace with the fact that I won’t see them perform together again. To put things simply, I’ve carried on. Even so, I’ve never stopped loving them, and I still allow myself to be inspired by them.”
All of a sudden, my expectation of laughter vanished, and happy tears found their way out of my eyes. I remembered my childhood, and how my world revolved around them. They were never just a band for me. They were never just a phase.
It took one look at MCR’s vocalist Gerard Way’s illustrations and paintings for my pre-teen self to know who I was meant to become. Their talents as individuals taught me to pursue my interests, just as they did. This led me to become an illustrator, and later, a graphic designer and a layout artist. It was their lyrics, and Way’s books which have political themes and artistic execution that opened my young eyes to the infinite possibilities of writing and reading. At an early age, I was able to open myself to a wider range of books. I wrote beyond what I was asked in school. Through these pursued interests, I found a home not just in art, but also in publication. Needless to say, they made me who I am.
To many, My Chemical Romance was just a group of men wearing dark clothes and even darker eyeliner. A lot of people saw them as just a bunch of guys who created music with dark and sometimes even gory themes. But beneath all their theatrics, they are a group destined to raise a generation of so-called “emo kids” who grew up unafraid of political and artistic expression, and most importantly, human beings who bravely tread this path called life.
Who would have thought that over a decade after their split, they’d be touring again, and the little girl carrying stacks of books and sketchbooks to class while posting about them on Tumblr will be able to watch her heroes live on stage, performing anthems that shaped her identity.
To MCR, you’ve said it yourselves—“We’ll meet again when both our cars collide.” Looks like our cars just did.
THE BARRISTER 