My Human Angel

As a teenager, it’s quite obvious that the people whom I am most influenced by are my friends. When it comes to music, I really tend to rely on my online friends, considering the ones in school don’t really like the same styles of music and artists as I.

This has recently caused me a bit of an emotional and mental problem. Since the age of twelve, which is not so long ago, I have been so…attached to Green Day that feeling otherwise is nearly traumatic. When the people who influence you repeatedly state that Gerard Way’s voice is the most beautiful or that Chester Bennington is undoubtedly the most amazing male vocalist ever, these opinions slowly seep into your subconscious until one day, you play “Jinx� and suddenly, Billie Joe’s voice sounds rather plain.

It hurts. It drove me mad. It continues to drive me mad. I love my friends and I truly do respect their right to an opinion, but don’t you dare for a second try and tell me that Gerard Way is the angel on Earth. He may have hit rock bottom and found it in himself to get back up and be normal, but he is no angel. He is a strong, inspiring human being, but he is neither the strongest nor the most inspiring. At least, not to me.

These days, and more often than I care for, Billie Joe’s voice doesn’t sound so amazing. It doesn’t reach into me the way it once did. I don’t know why. I miss the furious infatuation that brought me to this website, the feeling that bordered on insanity. But I do not respect or admire any musician more than I respect and admire Billie Joe.

It sounds ridiculous, but he is my faerie and my faerie he shall always be. And there it is: as I listen to Worry Rock, I can feel it again. A good song will reach out to you emotionally. It takes substance to make a listener cry, to feel the sorrow of the song. But it takes a faerie, an angel to make the audience cry with unabashed happiness. For accomplishing this, Billie Joe is my hero.

There’s enough fanfiction on the internet to tell me that when it comes to struggles, Gerard Way is “the� survivor. I cry when I read those stories. While some of them are beautifully written, it’s not that. I cry because…well, what about my hero? What about my angel? He yet lives! True, his struggles were not as publicized as Gerard’s and Billie’s life has stabilized considerably.

As I’ve already stated, many artists have struggled with emotional and mental problems. Many have fought their way to normalcy and balance. Many have fought against drugs and alcohol and inspired others to do the same. Billie Joe has faced some of those issues. But that’s not what I respect him for, that’s not why he inspires me. It sounds snobby, but I seriously doubt I will ever face any kind of severe mental problem or drug problem. What I idolize is that Billie Joe didn’t just struggle for himself. He struggled for music.

He could have finished high school and gotten a degree and gone to college. But he didn’t because he had a dream that he knew he had to fulfill. Scavenging for places to play, for Green Day’s music to be accepted and never giving up even when they were ostracized…that’s why I look up to him so much. That’s why I love all three of them so damn much. They lived in a basement next to a guy with a head in a jar and ate Ramen on a disconcertingly regular basis. But they played and they want to continue playing until their dying breaths.

Billie Joe, as far as biographies tell me, never cared about moving out of his family’s financial situation. He wanted music. He never cared about pleasing anyone, he just wrote. And he still doesn’t care. When he opens his mouth to sing, when he jumps around on stage, I don’t see a normal rock star. I see my hero, my angel, my faerie. I see my savior, my inspiration, the one thing I strive to be more than anything else.

There’s enough fanfiction on the internet to tell me that when it comes to struggles, Gerard Way is “the� survivor. I cry when I read those stories. While some of them are beautifully written, it’s not that. I cry because…well, what about my hero? What about my angel? He yet lives! True, his struggles were not as publicized as Gerard’s and Billie’s life has stabilized considerably.

I see Billie Joe Armstrong, the most amazing and beautiful musician I have ever come to know of. I don’t care what Isa or Dru or Lizzie or Marlee or anyone else thinks. I see my faerie, my angel—the only angel.