Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.
I warn you - I was no a happy bunny when I wrote this, so it's kinda depressing! XD
He was fucking depressed. It was New Year's Eve - he should be out drinking and partying like every other teenager, like every other person on the planet. Instead, he was sat at home, listening to old metal records, drinking himself into oblivion.
If he had it his way he'd be with his best friend, Ray, or hell even Mikey, his little brother. But Ray had been invited to a party by a friend from his old school, and he'd felt too much like a gate-crasher to go to a party where he only knew one other person, and it wasn't even their party. In all honesty, he would have been happy for it to be just him and Ray, as long has they had some decent music and drank shit-loads when the clock struck twelve. The same went for his little brother.
But instead, they were both at parties, leaving him on his own. Actually, he'd been invited to a party by one of his few other friends, and he had gone. He'd put effort into his appearance as well; taming his hair slightly, lining his eyes darkly, and squeezing into a pair of skinny jeans. But when he arrived he'd been disappointed - they'd been playing really old, shitty, pop music, and he'd known no one there. He was completely at a loose end.
So he'd left early, and arrived home to an empty house. Even his parents were out with friends, enjoying themselves. He was stuck at home, on his own and fucking miserable. So what had he done? Began to drink.
He'd taken a few bottles of rum, vodka, Micky Finn, and whiskey, taking alternates sips out of each one, so his parents didn't notice any was missing. As the night progressed, he got drunker and drunker, and more and more miserable. But he figured that if he drunk enough, eventually he'd forget that he was alone, and perhaps be able to make something of the night that was created to stay up until dawn the next morning.
Finally, the clock on the oven beeped, indicating it was midnight. He held a bottle up and toasted 'Happy New Year' to no one, before taking a sip. Then he burst into tears. He was sixteen, for fuck's sake. He should be out there, having a good time, not drinking by himself at home. He should have a girlfriend, not be a social outcast with no chance of ever pulling anyone. He should have a huge group of friends, who all wanted to party with him, not two who were happy to go off without him. So he just lay on the kitchen floor, drinking until he passed out.
This was the beginning of Gerard Way's downward spiral.