Is your glass half empty, or is it half full? Short Frikey one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
Is your glass half empty or half full?
If someone had asked me that a few years ago, before I started high school, I would have answered without hesitation with half full; my eyes bright and childlike as they so often were back then. Before my innocence and naivety were corroded away from me by the merciless winds of life; that which none can escape, some can ride and few get blown away by.
I, Mikey Way, fall into that last category, one of the few too weak to be able stay as the person that I want to be.
I think that children are seriously underrated, that they are a lot more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for. If you ask a child why it is always wearing a superman cape the odds are that it will look at you like you’re retarded and then say something along the lines of ‘because I like it’. You see, kids are too smart to care about what other people think; to feel the need to fit in with the crowd because when you’re a little kid you don’t understand the concept of not fitting in and nor do you care to; you’re just too innocent to think that you should ever be anything but what you want to be. You want to be a dinosaur? Go for it, run around roaring at people and doing funny little T-Rex arms. You feel like being a decorator? Grab your crayons and let your creativity run riot on the freshly painted cream walls of your mom’s bedroom. You have the sudden urge to be a dog? Just fall to all fours and howl like a werewolf on steroids. Why? Because you’re a kid, you just want to be happy and you don’t give a fuck about what other people think of you.
Some people might say that going around on all fours like a dog is stupid, but if that’s what makes you happy then it’s one of the smartest things that you can do. Just because everyone else is too blinded by what society thinks to do what they love and be what they want it doesn’t make being different synonymous with being stupid.
So for that reason, the reason of just being who you are and proud of it, when I was still a little kid I would have still had the optimism within me to answer with half full.
Ask me now though, and you’ll get a very different answer; my glass isn’t half full, nor is it half empty, it’s just plain old empty. Nothing left within it for it to be even a fraction full and certainly not enough in it for it to class as half empty. So it’s just empty. Why? Because I’ve got nothing left to give, the winds of life tipped the glass over until it was drained completely empty.
Like me. Empty.
Call me a pessimist if you want to, so many others have, but I know that I’m not; I’m a realist. I see things for what they are and, more often than not, I much rather wouldn’t.
The other kids at school, for example; back when my glass was at least half full I saw them all as my friends in that sickeningly sweet way that all little kids do, but now that my vision is no longer distorted by the childish liquid that once filled my glass I can see how it really is. How they really are. I’m lucky, they’ve never really bothered with me either by the way of making proper friends nor by the way of making proper enemies, unlike I’ve seen them do with so many others. My big brother used to get beaten up every day at school, used to come home with black eyes and an even blacker temper, all because he dared to keep some of life’s liquid in his glass. So by emptying mine I thought that I could avoid the same sort of treatment.
The kids at school can all be categorized into one of three groups; those who gain popularity by morphing into something that they aren’t in order to fit in with society’s ideals (this is what most people go for, but rarely make it into), those who gain their own safety by hurting others (a group which I think that everyone has slotted into at one point or another) and then there’s those who just kind of are, those who are neither entirely false nor entirely themselves, just kind of in between reality and what they are told reality is (this is the group that most end up in).
Apart from I don’t fit into any of those three groups. Why? Because I am nothing. Just empty. Like I said. Years of seeing my big brother getting hurt at school taught me enough to know that the only way to survive high school and keep some small part of who you really are is to just vanish. Just simply not be. Because how can they destroy someone who doesn’t exist in the first place; someone with no liquid in their glass to be poisoned?
Apart from my plan never worked, the kids in high school have changed who I am by making me withdraw from society. I know that I said I don’t have any enemies, but I also said that I don’t have any friends; everyone needs friends. Even Gerard had someone, had some afro-headed guy called Ray, to help him get through. I, however, have nobody. No one. My contacts list on my cell is just like me and my glass; empty.
Which is why I am currently sat at the front of my English class, purely because no one will have me sit next to them and nor do I want to sit next to some ignorant hypocrite, struggling to stay awake through some tedious analysis of a Shakespearean sonnet. I bet if someone asked Shakespeare about his glass he would have said something like ‘myne’s glass beith half empty’. Why? Because he seems kind of like Gerard; wonderfully talented and intelligent, but with the tendency to be more than a little bit of a downer. Not that I blame Gee for ending up like that, I blame the kids who used to beat him up, who smashed his glass to smithereens.
I look around the room, deciding that people watching is a lot more interesting than some boring fourteen-line love poem with more metaphors in it than the bible and stop short when I spot him. The one other person in this room who doesn’t fit into any of the three groups that everyone else does.
Why doesn’t he fit in? Because his glass is neither half full nor is it half empty; it is overflowing out of the top. He is the single most amazing person I have ever set eyes on, not because of his deep hazel eyes that are doused with soulfulness nor because of his cheeky little smirk that seems to get him out of anything, but because he has managed to not let the winds of life make any of his liquid slosh out of his glass; he has all of the personality that everyone should have if it weren’t for the fact that life gets in the way. He has the guts to like all of the things that society hates, has the fuck-it attitude to let him wear the eyeliner that I would if I hadn’t seen my big brother get beaten up for wearing it too; he has honest bravery to be who he is.
How do I know this? Because I’m constantly trying to learn how to refill my own glass by watching him managing to keep his full. I’ve never spoken to him, though, and nor do I want to; I like that I can have someone to aspire to be like, someone who could be a let-down if I ever do talk to him. It’s ridiculous, I know, I’ve fancied the boy for well over a year and I still haven’t spoken to him. Because I see that look in his eyes every time someone punches him for daring to be what we all should be (ourselves), I see how momentarily empty they look when insults are flung his way and how quickly he recovers by refilling his glass with the tunes of his headphones. Because inside I think that he might just be empty too, or would be if he wasn’t who he is. I don’t know really.
I’ll never know. I’ll never speak to him. I’ll never risk smashing my glass by having my last hope smashed.
Because I’m empty.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading, sorry that it had no point and was probably really quite boring, but I hope that you liked it! Thanks for reading and please review! :)