Biographies }{ Yet another 'get to know ya' th...

[Bhu ♥ Irwin]

So, we already know each other pretty well; what with years of chatter and several 'who am I' threads passed around. Not to mention, each character biography holds a little bit of the maker inside of it. However, after finding a song or two that suits me, I have decided that maybe it would be interesting to make biographies for ourselves, much like we do for each and every character we play. You don't have to follow the Broken Truths character bio format, though you may to some extent (I mean, instead of species you can do race and whatnot), and personalized images would be awesome to see. My favorite part will be doing some images of myself that are real, and finding some anime of what I look like, or wish I looked like, and adding lyrics to songs to everything. :) Have fun!


Edit: It doesn't have to be 100% true. We can make new identies, if you want. For example, mine will be pretty accurate, but I might slip Jeff Corwin into the mate section or something, simply because I adore him, but he won't be in my history. Only in my deepest fantasies will I ever be Jeffs mate...haha, though, soon as I meet him, the whole lack of proper hormones thing will kick in and I would have to hold him as just a friend ;)

Edit: Also, you could always just make a post where you put music that describes you well, or something simple like that. Not all people are as comfortable giving away information as I am, haha. I understand it is a risk doing so, but I am one of those silly people who don't care what happens because of carelessness :)

[Bhu ♥ Irwin]

I will italicize that which is purely fantasy.

LINDSAY MARGARET LAGASSE
I'm not ready to make nice.

Gender: female
Age: 19 years
Dominant Race: Italian
Secondary Races: Black Foot Native American, Irish, French, African, English, German
Home:Roanoke, Virginia
Job: Currently unemployed/full time hiking enthusiast
Religion: Christian

Eye color: Hazel
Body Build: Athletic
Hair Length: Midback
In-Depth Physical Appearance:
I consider myself rather bland. I am 5'1" and weigh an unimpressive 100lbs, though it fluctuates to 130lbs when I work out obsessively. My hair barely reaches my midback, though I often cut it shoulder length for convenience sake. My hair is a dark brown in color. I have hazel eyes, dancing between brown and green on a day to day basis. I am not particularly tanned, though I sometimes look tan due to caked on dirt. I don’t pay close attention to appearance, so my face is natural; no hidden blemishes and the such. I have dark circles under my eyes due to insomnia. I have been told that I am notably muscled. My feet are not proportional to my body, a few sizes larger than someone my height would typically wear. Another quirk would be my nose; I have been told I have an impressive nose--which is a kind way of saying my nose is not proportional to the rest of my face. I look twelve and I have a male-like form. My hair pulled into a baseball cap lead one waitress to visibly step back in shock when I spoke. She admited, quite flustered, that she had thought I was a "twelve year old boy". Ever since I have noticed everyone first thinks I am twelve, before they ask my age. I suppose it could be 'baby fat' on my cheeks, like with Sara, but my parents and I believe it is my height alongside the fact that I do not dress like a teen that leads to my young appearance.

Mother: Beth Anne Lagasse
Father: Joseph Henry Lagasse
Siblings: Shannon Marie Lagasse, Midge Bell Lagasse, Brian Griffon Lagasse
Friends: Ilyich, Kunabee, Moon, Newol, Rebecca, Laura, Megan, Lauren, Beth, Hannah
Mate: Jeff Corwin
Children: Irwin Scott Lagasse and Lester Lagasse

What is your thought on humans?: I wish to love them as God requests, but I find it so difficult when we breath destruction. So, I am unsure on my loyalties to my species.
Personality:

I wonder how it's going to be when you don't know me
I have never been able to stay in a single spot too long. I make friends, but I break the ties after a period of time. I hate commitment, finding it to be suffocating. I have always been selfish in this sense; I want to be able to live my life the way I want to without having to answer to anyone. This leads me to be quiet, perhaps even shy towards new people. After a while, I will extend such qualities to even “close” friends. It takes a special kind of person to stay in my life for any length of time; a person that lets me do my thing the way I want to. I never ask for anyone to understand, just to not question. Perhaps it makes me disloyal, the way I will neglect friends simply because they hold me back, but I have accepted this about myself. I am like an unbroken stallion; I will let you rub up on my snout and feed me a treat, but you try and saddle me and I will buck. The part that reflects on me the worst out of all this is that I do not regret. I will cut the ties holding me to someone and I won’t look back or shed a tear. It is only when someone else cuts the ties with me do I fall into a pit of despair..again, the selfish thing.

I'm only pretty sure that I can't take anymore
I have little to no confidence. I feel as helpless in this world as a blind eagle would feel on a hunt. I see myself as weak and as scum. This self image causes me to be depressed on a severe level, though I hide it away when I can. It annoys me how society views depression; there are those who avoid it like the plaque, and those who try and suffocate the one who has the issue. This often makes me tense with those who try to help. I am also a very anxious individual. Not only am I always worrying about what could go wrong next, but I am also always on the lookout for betrayal; whether it be someone walking out, or someone stabbing a blade between my shoulder blades. Perhaps it all branches out to my poor self-image; I find myself to be a lowly form that deserves death, so those around me must think it, too.

Chances taken, hope embraced
As weak as I am, I am rather brave. Or perhaps I am simply reckless. I will do, well, anything. An adrenaline junkie to a massive degree, death holds no fear over my heart. Taking risks is what I live for, and it is my faith in God that helps me do so. I believe that, should I ask, God will let me into Heaven, and so I have nothing to worry about if I am to die. I cannot sit in one place too long or else I will get anxious and fidgety. I need adventure on a daily basis and if I am denied it, all the energy builds up to self-destruction. Medications are my out, for the make me drowsy if I take just the right amount. For someone who lives by an all natural appeal, I have an unhealthy addiction to substance; whether it be an alcoholic beverage, a bottle of pills, or a combination of the two, I am not able to just sit down and accept that my life is a boring routine without the help of my chemical friends. I do things on a whim, whatever those things may be.

Forgive, I don't think I could
This chick can hold a grudge. As pleasant as I try to be, I am a terribly angry individual. Revenge is not below me, a firm believer that it is a thing best served cold. I love to torment those who have hurt me the most. Usually, I forgive and forget. Only once has someone harmed me so deeply that I have placed the black mark on their forehead. Before this person, I was not even aware I could hold such heat towards one person for such a length of time. Typically, I am like a dog; you can beat me all you want, I might bite initially, but I will quickly rise up and lick the wound I inflicted. This said, it is clear I am quick to anger. The smallest, most nonsense things can awaken a rage that swells from my gut to tear you apart with words, and occasionally fist or teeth, but the war only lasts a few minutes. I will then coil into myself in remorse and hide away, quickly cutting my ties with you and leaving it at that. If I don’t grovel for an apology, first.

It's not faith if you're using your eyes
As firm a believer in God as I try to be, I am a mind of science. I have difficulty grasping that which I cannot see, though I will put my soul into trying. I am curious by nature, always hungry to learn new things. Academically, I am advanced, though I lack the foundation for common sense or social intelligence. I might be able to tell you all about the bone structure of a black-faced ferret, but I won’t have the words to say them. This lack of social grace frustrates me, in addition to my annoyance that one does not already know what I consider easy knowledge, which forces smartass remarks to come as my defense. Harshly abusive, I will state the obvious in a snide way so as to hide that I am so terribly lonely and confused. It is also my defense because I lack trust for other human beings, incredibly cynical, thinking everyone has a selfish motivation for all that they do.

All the right friends in all the wrong places
I am a mother. That is not the image most have of me, but deep down I am. When I make a lasting friend, I herd them all into a group so that I may shelter them with my wings and fight away their attackers. I am passionately loyal, and dangerously protective of my flock. It is said that those you love are the ones you hurt the most; this does not stand false in my case. I am terribly brutal to those I care for, honest even when honesty is what will hurt them the most. My friends can tell me anything in confidence; I have never let a secret fall past my lips, and I never plan on starting such a trend. I have also been told that I am dependable; when I say I will be there, I will. I am also always available, making time for a friend despite what life is shitting on my doorstep at the moment.

History:

Childhood
I was born in Providence, Rhode Island, in a hospital known as Fatima hospital, October 10th 1993. It was my grandfather’s birthday and I was a few weeks early. My parents had not been expecting me until my mother was suddenly in labor. I was almost born in the elevator to the hospital room. Up until birth, my parents and the doctors thought I was to be a boy, and my name was planned to be Ryan. Everything bought for me was planned for a male child, which could explain why I have difficulty accepting I am female even now. My parents never quite accepted I was female, even though I clearly was, so I grew up doing all the things my dad loved doing, while my older sister and mother did all the things my mom loved doing.

There was already a dog and a couple cats in the household I was born into. Toots, the dog, quickly became my best friend. I was never a social child, through all of toddler years and early childhood. It was just Toots and me, getting into mischief. I had little tolerant for authority from the get-go, and minimum fear, as is natural for a child of young age. My mother stills tells me about the day she woke up at 5am to noise downstairs. She went down the stairs with daddy holding a baseball bat, only to find I had opened the drawers and used them as steps to get onto the counter. In my three year old hand was a large butcher’s knife, and I was making two peanut butter sandwiches. My mother claims I looked at her, laughed, and continued making the sandwich. When she asked what I was doing, I told her, while continuing to work on the sandwiches, “Toots got hungry. You said no knives for Lindsay. You do not tell Lindsay what to do. Toots tells Lindsay what to do.”

Elementary School
I started elementary school at four years of age. The school had given me a test when my mother reported that I exhibited a higher degree of intelligence than was normal for my age. The school agreed when I scored higher than their first grade class, and put me into kindergarten a year early. The year was boring, Mrs. Marcello a real bland teacher, and I passed the class with ease. However, the school had me retake the class because I had not made a single friend, always saying I only needed Toots. They claimed that, though I excelled academically, I was socially awkward and I needed to learn how to coexist with other students because first grade was based largely upon team-building and group-activities. My parents explained to me that, if I wanted to go to first grade, I had to accept that Toots could not be my only friend. I understood and went to my second year of kindergarten with a fake smile plastered on my face. I pretended I cared about what everyone was saying, and I eventually made a friend, Sarah Chin. Soon after, Sarah said she saw Brandon Day watching me. I approached him aggressively, telling him to stop stalking me and Sarah.

The next day, Brandon Day asked me to be his girlfriend, and I said yes.

Brandon Day was my boyfriend up until the middle of 3rd grade. Sarah Chin was my best friend up until the middle of 3rd grade. This was the point when I moved. Brandon and I tried the long distance relationship thing, but we were young. I only lived half an hour away but it was too far. I could no longer walk to his house, I had to be driven. So we agreed to experience our first kiss together, then shook hands and said a final goodbye. Sarah Chin moved to another state and our friendship just was not strong enough, so I lost her, too. I quickly crawled back to my anti-social nature. I had kept my side of the bargain with my parents—I had made friends so I could pass kindergarten. No need to torture myself further.

Only a couple days after moving to my new home, I met Rebecca Studley (some of you on BT might remember her as Belatrix). She had no friends; I had no friends, so we came together by instinct whenever a group activity presented itself. It didn’t take long for her and I to become inseparable. We created SIABB (see-ab), which stood for The Sisters in All But Blood. By fourth grade, I had a whole group of friends, but Rebecca remained my very best, aside from Toots. The middle of fourth grade brought the arrival of my beloved rabbit, Buggsy, and the death of Toots, who jumped in front of a car and pushed my cat away to save him. She was struck, and the cat, Herby, that she tried to save was killed by a second car. After a week of agony at the vets, her organs began to shut down, so I said my final goodbye and held her paw as the put her to sleep. We cremated her and buried her in the yard, where I carved a gravestone into a big boulder I used to climb up on to escape Toots when we would wrestle.

A week after Toots’ passing, I still would not smile. Rebecca figured she would help me by introducing me to roleplaying. Her plan worked, and I was soon too absorbed in a fantasy world to be bothered by the real Hell I had come to live in. I made my first character, Rini, who was a forest nymph with a beloved rabbit, Buggsy. It was a kingdom hearts site. The site only lasted a couple months after I joined, but it was long enough to make me addicted. My life began to revolve around three things; animals, Rebecca, and roleplaying. Nothing else mattered.

In fifth grade, I ran away from home, leaving a note that said I was tired of being a human. I took Buggsy with me and I camped in the woods with him for a week, eluding the police. After a week, I ran out of peanut butter granola bars and rabbit food, so I crawled home and climbed in my bedroom window. My parents found me in my room the next morning and I acted like nothing happened. They decided it best to leave it at that, and called off the search. It was rather an amusing time, when I stop and think about it.



Middle School
In sixth grade, I met Laura Howard and Megan Printer, both of whom joined mine and Rebecca’s SIABB group. I became a vegetarian and stole my first abused animal this year. I began taking in injured and orphaned wildlife. It was a hectic year, but I had found my place in the world. Animals. It had always been my main focus, but now I did more than just make petitions that never go anywhere, collect up money that never amounted to any true numbers.

In seventh grade, my Middle School shut down and we began having to commute a good deal further t the neighboring area’s school. Caitlyn Greco became a good friend, for the SIABBs were not part of my school team, and I refused to befriend anyone from the ‘enemy’ school we had joined. So Caitlyn and I banded together and became two of the most feared kids in the school. We fought kids, we drank, and we stole animals together. We vandalized the locker rooms and made the school Hell for anyone who we deemed ‘unworthy’, which was almost every single person. With her, I was a demon. Rebecca, Laura, and Megan were blind to this, me keeping it from them for fear they would disown me if they knew how terrible a person I had become. I lived two separate worlds, one where Caitlyn and I were the villains, the other where nothing mattered but SIABB. This continued up until I moved at the end of eighth grade. Buggsy died this year, devastating me, and only deepening my negative personality.

During my seventh year of school, a man was brought into my life. My cousin had fallen in love and I was quick to adopt this man, Ron was his name, as my best friend. I had always had more success befriending older men than anyone my age or gender. I believe he was a truely good person for the several months we bonded. Then another cousin's ex-husband claimed Ron and another cousin-in-law beat him with a bat. They were both put under house arrest. I became Ron's entertainment; I would stay over and play Black Op with him late into the night. I didn't know how much he loved me sitting on his lap, his body wrapped around mine as he taught me how to play. I didn't know. I didn't know.

One evening, after watching Rambo, I was tired. My cousin had gone off to bed and it was just me and Ron. I curled onto the floor to go to sleep. Suddenly, Ron was beside me with his arms wrapped around my waist. He nibbled my ear, asking if I'd ever kissed anyone before. I was put into a state of shock, silent. My breathing grew jagged as he turned me to face him. I simply stared, face vacant of emotion as I met his eyes. He continued to whisper things I cannot recall, too overwhelmed by the memory that details have been repressed. His hands explored my 11ish year old body. I was still. I let him because I was too afraid and drowned in betrayal. I know he would have raped me had I not snapped to my senses. I broke his nose and a rib, then fled to the upstairs bedroom, where I crawled into the bed with my cousin. The next morning, he was bandaged up. He had gone to the doctor. I never reported him, ashamed at how close I had come to allowing him access to the only thing in life I had ever felt I had control over. I never spoke of it again. He eventually disapeared, overcome by drug addictions. I have not seen him since. But I remember. And I am ashamed.


High School
I moved to Goodview, Virginia at the beginning of 9th grade. I kept to myself, everyone loving me because I was a city girl, but fearing me because, to put it bluntly, I was a cruel bitch. I didn’t have Rebecca, Megan, and Laura to hold me accountable anymore, so I just went with what I felt safe at; ruining everyone’s lives by dragging them through the mud of reality—my reality. Reality had become something I hated, seeing as I had come to accept that the world sucked. If I could not be happy, then the world could screw it. We got Hermonie, CC, and Gill, all three were goats. They were my friends—the only ones I needed. Then Mr. Ruiz, my English teacher, taught me how to accept myself. I came to terms that I was a jerk, but only on the surface. I started to branch out, I made friends with those in his classroom, I began to smile. We adopted Midge towards the end of 9th grade and that smile grew.

10th grade was another year of Mr. Ruiz’s English class. It was also the year I was tricked into going to a Seventh-Day Adventist church. It was a good year. I learned about God and I began to care about people. Danny Poff, my pastor, quickly rose to be my best friend, and a second father figure, one who didn’t drink. I quit drinking, I began hiking religiously. I went to Yosemite National park with the church—the funded the trip for me.

Then that blasted church took away my damned joy.

By the beginning of 11th grade, Danny had abandoned me. He claimed we were still the best of friends; we just had to hide it from his wife, Rhonda, who had become paranoid of our relationship. I started off hating Rhonda for not trusting us, but then I realized Danny was lying to her, feeding her paranoia to save his own ass. I forgave him, over and over again. Suddenly, by the middle of 11th grade, I had no more forgiveness to give. I left the church without saying a word and never returned.

My faith in God had been shaken, and as much as I hid it in my new church, I was not devoted to God. I started drinking again. I planned my Appalachian Trail hike so I could get away from reality, just for a little while. I wanted to forget about the old church, deny Danny access from my brain and my heart. One does not simply forget they loved someone, not when the love is so strong that the person was a parent to you. I wanted to forget. I needed to forget. I thought about suicide, an idea that I had not toyed with since 7th grade.

By the time senior year came around, I had begun to let Danny go. I hated him and only him. My faith in God was still weak, the wound raw, but I accepted He was there, but maybe not there for me. I had met Beth Witt as my pre-ap Chemistry teacher in 11th grade, and we became good friends—I even went to her house on a regular basis to hang out with her and the goats. She had let me take several of her goats to add to my herd the summer between 11th and 12th grade. Now, in senior year, I neglected all my friends, except her and my friend from church, Hannah Doudiken. They became my only human friends in Virginia. I became severely anti-social, but at least I had both of them. Life was beginning to be tolerable again.

Late in the year, one of my does became ill right before birthing her two children. She did not die, but she was too weak to care for them. I took on Irwin and Lester as if they were my own children. I loved them more than anything else. I considered them a blessing, and I let God becoming a piece of me once more. Then Irwin became ill only days after birth. He never got better. Lester was able to rejoin the herd, but Irwin was different. It was clear he was more than just slow-witted, he was sick. He got better for a few days, but at four and a half months of age, Irwin died. It still weighs heavy on me. We are moving to Roanoke to a land bigger than what we have now, I have graduated from high school, and still, Irwin is the only factor present on my mood. His loss has taken its toll on my relationship with God, and my relationship with my friends. I trudge on, but only barely. I feel that the future will hold much less than my past.

[I L Y I C H]

sara lisabeth grabert

Gender: female
Age: 19 years 11 months
Dominant Race: Cajun.
Secondary Races: German. French. Cherokee. Welsh. Swedish.
Home: Winter park, Florida
Job: Bird handler. Feed crew.
Religion: Atheist.

Eye color: Green. Brown. Amber. (they change colors)
Body Build: Short and lanky.
Hair Length: Short. Tufts at longest reach ears.
In-Depth Physical Appearance:
I am not particularly impressive in any way shape or form. I stand about 5'4" depending on whether of not I have shoes on or not. I only weigh 110 lbs soaking wet and most of the time can be flung about like a rag doll by anyone with any amount of muscle. It's all rather pathetic. I will forever look like a 12 year old, as I never really lost the baby fat that rounds my face out a bit... As things go I am average. Dark hair, green eyes (most of the time) and pale skin. I could pretend to be a vampire if I wanted to in all reality and I bet someone would believe me. Other then that I don't really know what else to add here. My body is pretty banged up; scarred and dented and what not.

Mother: Kim
Father: Brian
Siblings: Emily. Jackson. Sydney Grace.
Friends: Bhu, Kuna, Moon, Newol, Ashley, Jazz, Brook, James, Lindsey, Jessica and Annika.
Mate: Ashley~ <3
Children: N/a

What is your thought on humans?: Humans upset and bother me. It takes a very particular person to be able to break through my general distaste for this species.

Personality:

this is how an angel dies blame it on my own sick pride.
masochist. masks. picking. panic attacks. will. avoidance. introvert. manipulative.

it's disgusting how you change me from a bandit to a baby
loyal. protective. touchy. uncertain. adoring. playful. shy. self-conscious.

word back on the street is the fire in your heart is out?
depressed. anxious. paranoid. quiet. scared. weak. obsessive. clinging. demanding. highly empathetic. therapist.

a seven nation army couldn't hold me back.
arrogant. crass. violent. defensive. loud. head strong. stubborn. reliable. proud. crude. social sadist. blunt.

im like a kid who just wont let it go
grudging. harsh. unforgiving. withdrawn. pathological liar. logical. snarky. cynical. sarcastic. dry sense of humor.

History:

birth through toddler hood.
Give me a second I- I need to get my story straight

I was born in Jasper Texas on September 15th 1992, to a pair of high school graduates who had no idea what they were doing. My father had left the navy in the hopes of being around for my earlier years, but it became swiftly apparent that he would have to reenlist, a thing he did and has only just recently retired. We moved from Texas as a result when he was relocated. I was six months old at the time, and found a new home in Connecticut. We lived there for another two years and it was horrible or so I've been told. My dad worked on a sub as head chief which was great when he was home and cooked but was horrid when he went to sea as he stayed out for six months at a time. At the age of three I moved once again when my father was reappointed to the Pentagon in Washington Dc. Thanks to all this moving around (we lived in dozens of cities in-between) I've gained an inability to stay still. Early indoctrination it would seem.

As life went on it didn't really change all that much. We moved to Hawaii and Pearl Harbor and that's when my independent personality began to assert itself. I had never really gotten along with anyone, being a rather mature child thanks to a lack of stability. I've been under the arrogant perception that everyone around me is a moron from a very young age.

elementary school.
I'll show you how god falls asleep on the job.

My sister was born exactly six months after my fifth birthday. It was three months later that my father was shown to be a liar and a fraud. He was arrested for something I would rather not mention, and shortly after my mother went to collect him she found out that he had been arrested for the same reason before and had used the military to keep it form her knowledge. They divorced within the month. By the time my sister was six months old we were in a plane on the way to Florida to live with my mother's parents. We stayed with them for all of a month before the tension was too much (My mother loathes her parents) and we moved into a rental home on the opposite side of the city. I made my greatest friends during this time, and a couple whom I will hate forever.

First off my two Shelby's have to be mentioned. The first being my academic calm. She is the smartest person I have ever met and most likely will ever meet. We've been good friends sense we were six years old and though we don't communicate as much as we have in previous years that will never change. The second being the greatest friend I have ever had and the most insane person I have ever met. We traumatized the people in our small elementary school. That girl was my closest companion. We had our furious wars as massive ego's are bound to have, but we were never mad at each other for long, being social outcasts more liable to team up and snarl at others then snarl at our only defense. It went on like this for years, until the tense began anew within my own household this time. It was at the end of fifth grade that we moved again, my mother having found a better higher paying job with the state.


middle school.
A boy with a dream, a monster with a match. A trail of gasoline.

I began middle school completely out of my element and at a loss as to what the fuck I was meant to be doing in any manor. This was when it started to get bad. My mother is an extremely controlling person, and I am an extremely independent one. our fights grew to the point when we would throw shit at each other and the verbal abuse only got worse from there.It was all out war, and me being the person that I am saw only cracks. Flaws. Not good enough. Not good enough. As a reprocution of this view I didn't really have any friends until eighth grade. In eighth grade I met a girl by the name of Joe. By that point I wasn't even questioning my sexuality. It was just as it was. That wasn't something I ever had an issue with. Joe was in truth the first 'girlfriend' I'd ever had even if we essentially just used and abused each other.

Eighth grade was also when the cutting began. It was more of a curiosity in the beginning. Just to see what it felt like. Just to know. It warped into an addiction that lasted almost seven years. Pain was a thing I understood and couldn't control, but this pain? This I could control and I could do whatever I wanted with it. It was a safety net and it made me feel numb. Numbness was a gift some nights. I can not handle stimuli and yelling to this day makes me panic. Words are cruel, and middle school made me tough as steel and my skin grew thin as paper. There are words scared into my flesh from these dark days. Words I am terrified of and that make me hate myself even now. I didn't think. I reacted. I fought and lashed out in the only way I knew how. By destroying myself. It all made far too much sense. This is what they wanted after all. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of breaking me. I'd do it to myself.

high school.
Tried twice as hard and i'm half as liked, but that's alright.

High school was hell. Homophobes and hatred. Joe and relationship abuse. Dumping of Joe which lead to a broken nose. Made a vow never to date ever again because obviously all people were like this. I took a crap ton of AP courses to distract myself but never did any of the homework. It didn't matter so long as I got the credit. Flunked to course got a five on the exam. That was how I worked. School bored me and arrogant sod that I was, I refused to associate with anything that I found boring. My depression hit an all time low and during tenth grade I was Baker Acted for the first time after swallowing half a bottle of allergy medication. Suicide is apparently taken extremely seriously by people who don't know shit about it.

How I loathed therapy. It doesn't do a thing. Doesn't help anyone. I've never felt more used. As if I was only there to be stared at. To be prodded. They were idiots too. Of the three separate times I was in hospital for suicide attempts I snuck blades in every single time. It was all too pathetic. Never the less life goes on, and the suicidal tendencies were 'controlled' with anti-depression meds (which just made me lethargic) and constant supervision. It made the rift between my family and I all that much worse. Well, of course it did. I separated from them all together only speaking to either my mother or my sister when absolutely imperative. The cutting continued. I flunked my math course at the end of twelfth grade and that would be when I was hit in the face with this funny little thing called reality. I took the summer course finished it in a week (all nine weeks worth of work) and high tailed it the fuck out of there.

associates degree.
I can't escape this now unless you show me how.

I am alone, and that is how I function. I was alone and that was how I functioned. Moving an entire thirty minutes away I was suddenly all on my own, and it was utterly brilliant. It was perfect in a way I couldn't even articulate. My room mate in dorm that first semester was a total spaz and it was hilarious. We never did more then tolerate each other, but it was interesting none the less. I lived in school dorms that first five months, hiding away under my pile of federal grants and loans earned through a 3.9 that infuriated my mother based on the fact that it was entirely built off of my test scores and not work ethic. Work ethic was a thing gained over the first month at Full sail in which I tore about like a crazed person trying to fix all the shit I mucked up before hand. It was a horrible lesson to learn.

But it also introduced me to my posse. Brooke and I did that stupid we're friends but we're gonna flirt luridly the entire time just to piss off everyone around us friendship thing. She was in my intro to 2-d animation class. I met Jazz through her, and Jazz thought me some holy saint of music distribution. I swear I was like her drug dealer for a rather long period of time. Then Ash was super good friends with Jazz. At that point though it was Brook and I. Jazz and Ashley were sort of just on the fringes. People we would hang with but didn't particularly know. That changed later in the semester as we got to know each other. It's kind of funny really. Ash and I hated each other for a really long time. Both of us essentially fighting over jazz who never noticed anything. It wasn't until second semester when we rented out our house as the four of us and Jazz and Ash being the only straight (in the closet) people had to share a room.

It was rather slow. I don't open up well and at that point I was still cutting on and off. I was always careful with it though. Never did get any scars on my arms bellow the elbows. but I was still worried about them. About this new situation where I had to share a bathroom with two other people. It was all rather awkward but I guess I got use to it. Over those next four months I got closer to Jazz and Ashley both. Went into that awkward teenage -stares around the corner when she wasn't looking- crushing on poor Ash. I was under the impression that she was straight as I'm a sad lesbian who lacks a gay-o-meter, or she was just really good at hiding it. As she should be considering her family. It was all rather tragic (in a pathetic teenage way).

It sort of ended (the tragic bit) when we essentially broke and scream confessed at each other. There is a video tape somewhere. We were both completely confused. brook thought it was brilliant. jazz hasn't stopped complaining to this day about being the only straight person in the house. It turned incredibly awkward after that. Neither of us knew how to deal with the other and ended up hovering just outside of touching range essentially side eyeing the other for weeks. Ash was the one who eventually stepped up and starting trying to form a relationship, a thing I (the follower) quiet happily went along with. We had a ton of issues in the beginning but as would be obvious we worked it out.

This would be around the time in our second and final year in the AA program that Ash found out about my cutting. She had previously met my mother and understood completely. I'd never had a support system like that. She helped me talk. Helped me go to who I needed to see. It was her who finally convinced me to stay on medication, though we both agreed to weed off the anti-depressants. I can say completely earnestly that if it weren't for Ash I doubt I would have stopped anywhere near as soon as I did. Over that year I suddenly gained a support system. Suddenly had friends the likes of which I had never had. (this would be around the time btw when I first joined and then left BTV1 and it's prerequisites as Drakel.)

At the end of that second year I was healthier and happier then I had been for most of my life. I had a paying job that I loved, that I had gained through the help of Brook and her bad ass skills. I had a house that I helped pay for. Holy shit I had a girlfriend who loved me. I mean these two years? They changed everything. Everything I was. Everything I ever will be. It was all altered in these simple two years and I have never been happier with change.

bachelors degree.
Love is my drug. Is my medicine. Is my heroin.

[/blockquote]

[Kunabee]

Elementary school history has everything organized in the appropriate grade, but not necessarily chronological order.

Kunabee Sakura Tiger McKangaroo
aka Rachel Elaine. You're not getting my real last name, however. I am paranoid.

Gender: female
Age: 15
Dominant Race: Caucasian
Secondary Races: SO MANY. Irish and Scottish though, for sure, some German....
Home: Aurora, Colorado
Job: Full-time student. I want a part time job ;-; I work part time for a CPA... the boss is my mom's friend and her boss as well soo. Counting the days 'til tax season is over.
Religion: I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. LDS. Mormon. Jesus is my savior. Heavenly Father's the one true God. You know. That stuff.

Eye color: Hazel. Changes shades of green and brown.
Body Build: Curvy. But fat <<
Hair Length: Short, just to my shoulders.
In-Depth Physical Appearance: 5'8 and overweight. Over 200 pounds, just so you know that I really actually am fat. I'm hoping desperately to hit six feet but alas, it seems like it will not happen. I wear a C-cup, and I hate having boobs. The only thing is that I want kids, sooo... I'll put up with them. I have a waist and hips. My hair is ridiculous. It's all curl and poof and occasionally I have something I call "Einstein hair" because yeah... it's that poofy and crazy. Luckily it flattens out after a while. My hair is slowly turning more and more red.
If you see a crazy girl wearing shorts and sandals in winter with snow on the ground, it's probably me. I love my sandals to death, and we've bought five pairs (luckily all identical... phew!) and they all wear out within a couple of months. I mean, they're usable, but they look pretty bad.
I have hazel eyes, which means they're greenish-brown. Occasionally my eyes have gone blue-green, and at other times all the way brown. They change color, and do it often, actually, depending on time, lighting, clothing, mood, etc. Pretty much any factor (including perception factors, though everything could be the same but my clothes - I've actually seen them change when changing from a nightgown to my day clothes before) causes them to change color. Which means that they make some weird and awesome stuff.
Unfortunately the color changing has slowed down. Darn.

Mother: Kerri Lynn
Father: Jay
Siblings: Technically I'm an only child, but I consider all my friends my siblings :3 Or cousins, or something x3
Friends: So many I can't list them. Online and in real life, old and new, young and old. My friends span ages, races, genders, and, yes, species. I consider them all my family though, because I love them so much. I've lost some, gained some, had some since before memory. The stories associated with each name, and everything that they mean to me... You can't contain the people I consider friends in any list.
Mate: Nope, not even a boyfriend.
Children: No human ones, though I really, really want one. I do have Babey though.

What is your thought on humans?: Humans... ah. We are a bitter and cold-hearted sort. Forgiveness is a broken thought when so few forgive. And people hate each other, and hate breeds more hate.
But I've seen too much goodness to believe that it is a lost cause. I have seen people give up everything for another. And that is what I see in people. That which is capable of great evil, is capable of great good (and vice versa). My faith stays with humans, my heart stays with my friends and all those I love.
There is a way, though it is a slow and hard and cold one. People will never be perfect. But there will be enough goodness in the world to keep me hoping.

Personality:

All that Glitters is Gold
The little ray of sunshine; the person who wakes up in the morning singing and brings everyone else awake with joy and smiles and laughter. The eternal optimist. The self that everyone sees; cheerful, child-like, and open.

Only Shootin' Stars break the Mold
The solemn, quiet girl. The one who smiles when you smile; the one who cries when you cry. The one who catches you when you jump off of a cliff. The person who's the solid shoulder, the one you can rely on, no matter what you've done. The person who, if you use and abuse her, will still be there if you need her. The one who never gives up; the self that my friends see.

Five days, since you Tackled me, Still got the Rug Burns on both my knees
Wild and crazy and unpredictable. Full of ridiculous stunts. The person who likes to tackle people, and who might just steal your shoes off your feet and chuck them meters away before you'll get them back. The girl who's all confidence and crazy, wrapped up into one overwhelming package. Overenthusiastic, hyper, insane. The girl who you're pretty sure has some sort of ADHD or autism or some other thing that makes her ridiculous. The girl who doesn't give a crap about what anybody thinks, ever, while trying to make everyone laugh hysterically at her antics. The side that probably comes out way too much.

I have a tendency to wear my Mind on my Sleeve
The tears. The girl who sits and cries. Who hates herself. Who wants everyone to be happy, but would be fine is she wasn't. Who's dark and cold and dying a little bit inside. The girl who's broken, who plots suicide, who keeps promises even in her darkest of moments. The one who writes emo poetry and then turns it into happy, just when you start to cry. The girl who sings that she's not worth anything, but then finds a tiny bit of joy and whispers that she's worth more. The girl who understands every problem, who listens and doesn't show her tears. The person that only a very special few see.

Life is my Creation, is my Best Friend. Imagination is my Defense
The writer. The storyteller. The girl who can come up with an idea in five seconds flat. The person who can take the most abstract idea and make a concrete story out of it. The person with an overactive imagination. Poetry and essays and fiction, writing it all and doing it well. The person who BSes her essays and still gets A's; the girl who would happily spend all day every day at the computer writing stories. The roleplayer. The person who takes a deep breath and becomes her character. The side that nobody sees; though they see the results.

I'll keep Walking, when Skies are Gray, whatever Happens was Meant that Way
The determined girl. The one who is all the pieces of herself. The me. Nobody really sees the whole; I just show them bits and pieces at a time. But I suppose the whole is more, and it really can't be explained. It's just who I am, and that's the way it'll always be.


History:

Baby I've been here before
November 27th, 1996. 7 AM. Aurora, Colorado. The day before Thanksgiving. A little baby girl born to her 38-year-old mother who has always wanted children. The smiling baby. Who always laughed and hardly ever cried. The first word being "No" and the second, "Dada". It took until the fourth word before I'd say "Mama". Stubborn but beautiful. The formations of a child; the beginning of me, decided by genetics and the people I loved most in the world.
The seventh word was "kitty", by the way.

I know this room, I've walked this floor
In church I yelled, "My Mommy's the best dinosaur player ever and my Daddy's the best Barbie player ever!"
This shows you a lot about my toddler-hood. I was about two at the time. My favorite color was pink. I wasn't afraid to speak what I wanted to. I wanted pets.
Curtsy and David were my two betas. They both died within two weeks. Luckily, David - the second fish, when I learned that the colorful, pretty betas were boys ("Boys?! But they're so PRETTY") - had a friend. Lacey the cat, who liked to stare at him. Probably because he looked delicious.
Standing on the step-stool on the kitchen, with Lacey beside my feet. Going to sleep and waking up with Lacey there. Petting and playing with her.
Realizing she was attached to my mom and begging for a dog.

I used to live alone before I knew you
Four year old me, and enter Daisy. My beloved doggy. I petted her. I hugged her. She was the best dog ever. I played with her.
But she, of course, attached to Daddy. So I started begging for another pet, to have a "my" pet. It was begging for a cat, because kitties took less work than doggies and I'd be more likely to get a cat...

meanwhile
Preschool, interestingly enough, was the site of my first crush. It was the place for my first nickname - RJ. And yes, if you want, you can call me that. It was the place where the two caretakers there taught us our numbers and our ABC's and a song with nonsense words that was mostly about how "I love you". My crush's little sister was my best friend. My crush himself was in first, and then in second, grade. On the final day of preschool he kissed me on the cheek.
I was so happy.

I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Elementary school at last. I was so excited. I wanted a full day, and I marched into Kindergarten with a smile and a laugh. I made several friends on my first day. When I found it was still a half day I was so disappointed. I'm sure with the picture I've painted of my little-kid self you can see the picture - a down-turned mouth who's quickly brought to laughter because you know what, next year there's DEFINITELY going to be a full day.
And there sure was. First grade, I think, was when imagination started to become first and foremost in my life. On the rocks we'd turn to lions; in the group of trees (the "forest" we called it) we'd be wolves. The playground was spaceships and ocean liners, secret bases and a jungle for monkeys. Orchestrated, of course, by yours truly. The computer started to come into my life more.
And in second grade I learned how to roleplay. First from Furcadia, and then from Puzzle Pirates. I became a... decent roleplayer, though I wouldn't give myself more credit than that. My imagination grew.
I wrote the first paragraph of the current version of The Unicorn Valley (which was later scrapped). I had a dream to become the youngest author, ever.
Surprisingly enough, however, in second grade I had trouble with my letters and my words. I struggled with reading. But with hard work, especially over the summer, my grammar improved tenfold and I started the basis for the posts I can create today.
I started to love to read. And I read, of course, about unicorns. My first series was The Unicorn Chronicles and I still really love that series.
Once I got in trouble because I was reading during the pledge. I hadn't even heard it start!
In third grade, as well, I tried to help someone fake his father's signature. I struggled with my want to help and my want to do the right thing - not fake the signature.
I got in trouble (everyone saw us), though he got in more trouble than me. They understood that the little girl with the long blonde hair just wanted to help. Still, I did something wrong. I understood being punished.
It was in third grade that I also told my teacher, "You deserve to go to heck". I didn't like her. I liked the one I had most of the time, but not this one. I liked to talk. Every time she caught me, I had to give her five dollars of the third-grade currency. I worked hard for that!
My hate for math also started in the third grade. And so did the fact that, hey, I was actually clever.
Two boys were taunting me. They threatened to come within a month with their machine guns and shoot everyone. So I threatened that in a month when I learned to play the flute (that was the plan), I'd play for birds to peck their eyes out. I then promptly turned and ran to tell on them.
One of the boys beat me. He said I was saying the thing about machine guns. Does that seem like something I'd say? Anyone who knew me, and knows me now, would realize that's ridiculous. Now, I'd told my teacher she deserved to go to heck fairly recently. These boys REGULARLY misbehaved. Guess who got in trouble.
Me. I began to learn the concept that the good children get in trouble because they can be controlled. And the bad children? Well, they just get away with more and more.
I also learned the feeling of betrayal. My parents sided with the school, though they believed I didn't say the thing about machine guns. My claim was that the boys did, and I said the flute thing because they were threatening to kill people. (Now I realize how psychopathic that was. One of the boys actually did end up being a little psychopathic. Maybe we should get that checked.)
(Later of course, I found out my parents wanted to laugh and high-five me. Ha. I'm a smart little bugger.)
My eighth birthday also happens around this time. And on the day of my birthday, as I'm picked up by my parents, I'm told we need to go to the store to get kitten food. Something specific. I realize in glee that they got me a kitten.
I name the little grey-and-white-striped 'coon-cat with a motorboat purr Babey. I spent two days staying up late and missing school just playing with her. Her tail was bigger than her. And I love her so much. She ate dog-food; Daisy was her surrogate mother. But so, in many ways, was I. At last a pet attached to me.
Fourth grade was the grade, however, when things began to change. No longer was I the popular girl surrounded by friends, leading the march, or participating in the favorite games of others. I became a bit of a loner, though I tried to be with my friends. Fantasy games just weren't interesting, and animals wasn't interesting either. So I wandered the playground in search of friends and a 'group', to no avail.
I realize now this is where my depression started, for fifth grade was much the same. Though they had implemented a new program - they had 'monitors' who would wander around for the lunch and recess, and I happily volunteered for such a task. I was good at peacemaking.
Life had started to fall apart, however, during this time. Sometimes the toilets got clogged... I usually didn't hold down the handle long enough. My mom got angry once, and threw the f-bomb and a crapton of other nasty words at me. Daddy was depressed, and violent.
Unfortunately despite her best attempts, her stress for fourth and fifth grades were taken out on me.

Love is not a victory march
Enter middle school. I would come home crying every day, wanting to die. Spend hours on my homework. My only relief? Crying it out to my best friend... Tanya. The online friend. The person I roleplayed with.
Sunnyheart and Warriors' guilds, I threw everything into the fantasy life of Warriors. And the fantasy vampires and such that Tanya and I roleplayed. I was into roleplaying myself, and threw myself into my fantasy world. I roleplayed any roleplay I could to stop feeling like I did. Fantasy was greater than reality.
I got in trouble, once, though I can't remember why. What I do remember was my boombox being taken away. My computer. Every single one of my sources of music, gone.
I tried to kill myself. No music? No life. Oh I stood there with that knife, and if my daddy didn't come into the kitchen when he did, I probably would have had a considerably different life.
They stayed up with me until midnight on that Friday, and I got my boombox back. No research was done into my now-obvious depression.
Why? Because Daddy... was now deadly.
Seventh grade was a little better. A brief respite before it completely fell apart. I felt better. I was better. I had actual, in-real-life friends now. Reality suddenly mattered just as much as fantasy.
But in eighth grade it went to the pits. Mr. Woodworth. Mr. Tafoya. Overwhelming high school levels of homework. Daddy gone crazy. Mommy crying.
In eighth grade I became the strong one in my family because Mama couldn't do it anymore. Daddy... got worse and worse.
You all saw this part. Saw the effects of losing my house. Of the separation. How my writing improved leaps and bounds. How I started to just not care about school.
When the glass shattered because Daddy threw his bike at the window. When I was crying, begging my mother to divorce him. Daisy's suffering. Grandma's death. Daisy's death.
I look back at eighth grade and I think of it as a time of pain, but also a time when I finally got help from a therapist. Finally felt better.
But then there was summer, and the looming threat of high school.

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
First day of high school I nearly had a panic attack. It was crazy and overwhelming and I was at a total loss.
The whole first month is a blur I can't really remember. But then I got to being suicidal.
Tried to drown myself in the shower. Tried to OD on meds. Hated my therapist-psychiatrist dude. Felt abandoned by the therapist that saved me the first time.
Couldn't be saved this time.
But, well, freshmen year things started to fix themselves. But I realized that nothing would ever be fully healed.

we'll be growing, into knowing
What does the future hold? That's a question for everyone. Now I am three-quarters of my way through sophomore year. I have a therapist who is helping me, and who I realize won't just abandon me like my last one. I have 150 milligrams of Zoloft. I still don't give a crap about math and have really super-crappy grades.
My mental health is better. I'm with all my friends and I love them. I'm here and I'm alive. I love biology and I am... soaring and sinking in a lot of different ways in a lot of different situations of mine.
But you know what? Next year will be better. It's one day at a time.


Songs Used:
All Star by Smash Mouth
One Week by Barenaked Ladies
The Creationist by Kerli
Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen

[Moon]

VANESSA JANE SMITH
I try to stay positive.

Gender: female
Age: 15 years, 11 months
Dominant Race: English
Secondary Races: Cherokee Native American Indian, Choctaw Native American Indian, United Kingdom/British (Irish and English), Scottish, German
Home: Swansboro, North Carolina
Job: Currently unemployed (underage)
Religion: Christian

Eye color: Green (with a gold/orange ring in the middle of each)
Body Build: Curvy (Spoon/Hourglass Body Type)
Hair Length: An inch below the bra.. xD
In-Depth Physical Appearance:
I think I'm pretty, to be honest. Sometimes I'll look in the mirror and say, 'Holy poop, look how terrible you look today' but I don't get too down on myself about appearance anymore. But anyways, I am a "whopping" 5 feet tall when I stand perfectly straight! Otherwise, I'm 4'11" and I am never forgetful as to how short I am. I wear a size 6 women's shoe. I weigh from 100-110 lbs, always fluctuating from when I am barely eating to healthy to eating way too much. Mostly I stay around 105. I think my body type is what a lot of women wish they could have; I am small but not skinny and I am curvy but not thick. Basically, I've got a small, defined waist and then I've got boobs, hips, and a butt. Woop. In proportion, my legs are long compared to my torso. My hair is naturally straight and pretty long nowadays and I'm still letting it grow. It is an all natural blonde with the smallest bit of a strawberry tint. Once I graduate and get into college, I'm thinking I'm cutting it really short to donate and possibly, POSSIBLY putting in temporary red dye. It's an internal battle. My skin is pretty pale, but I've recently gotten more tan than I've been in years, thanks to guard. People used to call me vampire or porcelain doll because of it. I have a round, very freckled baby face. My cheeks are big. Because of this and the fact that I'm barely five foot, people always think I'm either going into eighth grade or my freshman year even though I'm a Junior (supposed to be a sophomore).

Mother: Amy Vanessa Dove-Smith (soon to be Thompson)
Father: Kevan Acton Smith
Siblings: Acton Dylan
Friends: Bhuvana, Ilyich, Kunabee, Newol, Jeanneva, Kayla, Payden, Christian, etc (meaning I have too many to list.. xD)
Mate(Boyfriend): Christian Marr
Children: None.

What is your thought on humans?: I can see the good and the bad in everyone but I try to love everyone as God tells us to. It's just hard with some people.
Personality:

Are you gonna live your life wondering?
I'm a person who wants to know what's going on all the time. I hate being confused because I hate making mistakes. The feelings accompanied with that make me feel so inferior and insecure. I've always had the mindset that I would learn from other's mistakes.

Standing in the back, looking around.
I'm an attention whore. I love the spotlight (on stage and off) but I don't mind at all when other people are in it. I love when people compliment me, like me, talk nicely about me.. but when the tides change directions and someone decides they don't like me, I feel terrible. I try to figure out what I did wrong and fix it and if I can't make someone like me it's like the world has ended. I like it when people like, even as more than a friend, because I used to be very insecure about myself. When other people like me, I know that I'm not any of the things I used to think. And I especially love it when people ask questions about me and let me ramble when I answer them.

Are you gonna waste your time thinking
I'm inpatient and hate being late. I'd rather not show up at all than walk in late. Sometimes I have really laid back days and I take things slowly but most of the time I want things to happen fast.

How you've grown up or how you've missed out?
I grew up always being told I was beautiful and smart and that I was the full package, but I never believed it. I thought I was pretty but that no one else did. And I thought I was smart but not smart enough or as smart as everyone else. I always felt in the middle and overlooked. Because of that, I had a very angry youth. Elementary school all the way into my seventh grade year I was mean, hurtful, and snotty but I never thought I was. In the eighth grade I was better because I started to develop a filter, but I still wasn't completely there because.. well, I didn't have or believe in God. My freshman year I started going to church because of my current boyfriend. We broke up after a year and two months and I was in a depressed state. I turned it all to God and because of that I powered through without hurting myself or others and grew stronger in my faith. I am now who you know today and happy with who I am. I'm not afraid of change though, because I'm not perfect.

Things are never gonna be the way you want
Since that change, I am now a very positive person. I like being happy and smiley and trying to make other people feel this way, too. Sadly, though, I have never learned how to forgive easily. I never forget, but I do forgive. It just takes an extremely long time and people get frustrated with me because of this.

Where's it going to get you acting serious?

History:

Childhood


Elementary School


Middle School


High School

Songs used:
A Praise Chorus, Jimmy Eat World