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Alex post goes here
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`•.¸¸.••´´¯``•• .¸¸.•´ ╔══════════════╗ •·.·´¯`·.·• •·.·´¯`·.·•´ Ⓐѵεяӌ`ș ʄεεℓιɴ` •·.·´¯`·.·• •·.·´¯`·.·•´ ╚══════════════╝ ≪ αℓωαӌș șнσω тнε ӌσυ ιи ӌσυ тнαт мαкεș ӌσυ тнε ӌσυ тнαт ӌσυ αяε. ≫ |
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✖○ωhαtεvεr HαÞÞεns βα¢κstαgε
 Metis had to laugh at Binny's question, she liked the girl in all honesty... She also liked her glasses, they were spiffy. Yeah, she said spiffy, it's a word. "Hey Jacob" She greeted, flopping down in the seat next to the club's director and teacher. Running her fingers through her bright red hair, she slid down in her seat, propping her feet up on the seat in front of her. "I think this year is going to... Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Metis pulled her feet back to the floor and sat closer to the edge. "Did Tiffany just say Wicked?" She looked over at their director. "Does she know how hard getting those rights would be? That thing is still on stage and everything! We don't have that kinda--" Metis stopped short, listening to the speech Nanette was giving before turning her out. She leaned in the direction of Binny. "To answer your question.... Only sometimes." She laughed, feeling her nose wrinkle as it did sometimes when she was amused. Ah, Drama Club, it was her life, this is what she came to school, this is what she liked to do, the people she liked being around. Even the drama within the drama club was fun sometimes. Nanette for one was a pretty okay chick, kind of a perfectionist, but hell, it was drama, it was theatre! There NEEDED to be such a person around with all of these drama kids combined, they would throw kick a** shows. Metis let her eyes wander over the walls behind the seniors on stage, sweeping them over to the right and left sides, getting peeks at the names and lists she'd read time and time again when she was behind the scenes. This year's seniors would scrawl theirs names on the old walls, write the plays they'd done, maybe some favorite lines, and then leave. They would leave their mark on this place for the future drama kids to stop, read and wonder, "What was that kid like?". It made her almost giddy inside --almost. She felt the phone in her cargo pants pocket vibrate twice, alerting her to a new text message. Pulling the cellular device from its hidey-hole, she flipped it open with her lips and read the message. Ahoy, Lassy. Get any new bootie? Metis sniggered under her breath, "That's what he said..." She smiled, before reading on. It was just like her to have to say something about that intentional innuendo. How's the club? Need a ride? Wanna play brawl when you get home? Jack keeps cheatin D: Later Lassy . Metis rolled her eyes and shut the phone, she'd reply later, right now, she had something to say. "I actually do have a question. How many newbies do I get, and what jobs will I be taking care of? Okay, two questions." She grinned, leaning on the seat in front of her. Her eyes then moved over to the new girl. She'd seen her come in and sit down like a little princess. Metis could tell already she was a daddy's girl, or spoiled. The air about her as she was sitting down made her arch a brow. She wasn't getting any kind of positive vibe from her about being here. Probably got her nails done at a swanky nail salon, that daddy paid for from his fat-a** wallet. That would tick her off. Metis was one to watch the newbies when they first came in. How they conducted themselves, spoke, their body language and what they acted like when no one --but herself-- was paying any attention, helped her determine whether or not they wanted to be their. Meits liked to watch people... kind of creeper-status, but hell, when nothing was going on, it was a pleasant pass-time. But, it was a bit too early for judgments on the underclassmen, maybe this one would prove her assumptions wrong... then again, maybe they were dead on. Metis hopped they were wrong, she'd seen a small spark of interest in the girl's eye. Drama needed good actors, actresses, techies and stage hands when the seniors and juniors were gone, and she hoped that if there was a God, that these underclassmen would be fantastic. §tαϒ§ βα¢κstαgε○✖ |
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 ROWAN that lil' bundle o' LOVELESS She smiled, poking her tongue out at him, "Maybe next time, babe." She sighed, rolling her shoulder around a bit, before peeking out the window at the presentation. Huh, it didn't look even half as boring as she'd thought, it was even worse. The people under the lights even had a stunning lack of energy for what they were doing. The image of one of the speakers just falling over, dead asleep flashed through her mind and made her giggle. She snapped back to attention when the nipping she'd grown used to, intensified to kissing which made her purr softly. What a downer it would be a teacher just happened to burst through the door. Absently, she reached out and knocked on the desk a few times. She really, really wanted to turn around and capture his lips with hers, but if that happened, she'd forget about THE opportunity of a lifetime he mentioned until she was nearly asleep. Rowan was thankful when he stopped the rather nice assault on her neck, because, honestly, her cheeks were probably a nice ruby red at this point. Her eyes closed and she leaned into the touch of his hand; warm, protective... He was so perfect to her it wasn't even funny. Just, everything about him, but her favorite feature of his was his eyes, they were so full of emotion is made her knees want to buckle sometimes. Once in a while, she would snatch his glasses, much to his displeasure, just to get a nice look at them. And the way he was looking at her now made her just want to melt right there in a puddle of mush. Her eyes never left his face as he spoke, and she nodded. She'd sent out applications too, and was in the process of writing up an essay as well. It was quite hard, she really wanted to go to college in Ashland, Oregon, it was so beautiful there. Her drama class had gone in her freshmen year for the Shakespeare festival, sure she'd gotten sick, but she enjoyed every minute of it. Her blue eyes widened when he said Oxford. Good God, her boyfriend was pretty damn smart! Rowan began to grin but it faded within seconds. Yeah... Oxford was in England... And that was pretty damn far away from Oregon, not that she expected him to go to the same college as her, but... she hadn't expected him to be, well, so far away. And all of that information came crashing down on her when he said 'gone'. Rowan almost couldn't believe it, so she had to repeat the word to herself, with an almost empty smile on her face, "Gone." She turned from him, staring blankly at the audience. Of course gone! We're seniors, haha, it's nothing to get worked up over, now is it? She mentally asked herself, but the thought wasn't uplifting at all, we were going to have to split eventually... Hell, all of us will. We can write letters, right? Snap out of it Rowan, for God's sake! She mentally slapped herself and looked at him. "That's so rad, Quinn!" She winced slightly at the sound of her voice, she sounded so... so peppy, almost forced peppiness, "Really, it's really great, your parents must be doing back flips!" Rowan groped for more words to say, she opened and closed her mouth a few times, until she forced herself to stop, "I mean, this is OXFORD! You're... You're going to..." The backs of her eyes began to sting. She felt sick, Rowan swallowed almost desperately and stood up. Her chest constricted, her breath hitched and she nearly stumbled into the door leading to the stairs. "I.. I have to.. to go to my locker," She said, trying hard to keep her voice even with the lump forming in her throat. Rowan kept her back to him, trying to keep herself calm, searching for an excuse, "Ha, ha, I forgot, I have some Spanish homework that I forgot to..." She swallowed as her pitch raised slightly and forced it back to normal, "That I forgot to..." Rowan clutched the front of her shirt and the door had gone blurry with tears. She felt almost selfish, mad even. Mad at herself for not being actually happy. It wasn't that she didn't want him to go, God knew she wanted him to get the best, as he did for her. And damn her to hell if he didn't go just because of her. Rowan felt her shoulders tense tightly, to a point where it hurt. "I've got to go," She uttered quickly, jerking the door open and went down the stairs as fast as she could. Once at the bottom, she took off for the double doors, and accidentally ran into Ms. Skiffins, and whatever the woman had been holding flew into the air and onto the gym floor. Rowan pushed the doors open, with more force than necessary, and stumbled into the hallway. Mentally, Rowan began to count, trying very hard to keep her attack at bay. But, she knew it wasn't going to work this time either. |
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✖§ℓAP ME, KICK ME, §CREAM✖
 {◊°αℓicε-Irεnε° →Michεℓℓε← ¤εvαns¤◊} Is...Still Alive Buzz, buzz, buzz. The annoying sound filled the pale green painted room, pictured lined the wall and took over the crock bulletin board hanging on the wall, left of the bed. Pictures of a smiling flaming red-head with her parents, matching hair with her father, and eyes with her mother. Friends, stuffed animals. The locations varied, some at amusement parks, fairs, etc. There were pictures of people the taker didn't even know, interesting scenes, and what have you. A row of stuffed dogs lined the foot of her bed, a few teetering on the edge. A hand snaked its way from under the blankets, feeling around the end table for the black box of annoyance. Who the hell turned it back on? Racking her sleep-clouded mind, Alice-Irene distinctly remembered turning off the blasted thing the SECOND she came home on the last day of school. A groan came from under the comforter, as a bit of red slid up onto the pillow where it had started out the night before. Sighing, she turned, bringing her hand back to rest on her forehead. Her mother had probably turned it back on, one of her subconscious things. Alice never could sleep through her alarm, so if it just kept going, her mother would know. In fact, Fiona was probably in the kitchen, straining to hear the clock, hands clamped around her coffee cup until it hurt. 'Looks like I'm still alive.' Alice thought, almost disappointed as she stood up from the bed. Her fingers grasped the cold metal of her door handle, she slipped out quietly, padding down the hallway. Alice had been right about her mother, just sitting there, with her coffee, not drinking the coffee, just... holding the cup. Alice took note that there was a tissue clutched in her mother's hand. Alice didn't know what to say at this point anymore, her mother just cried. Cried like she was already dead. Her dad wasn't even around anymore. Alice almost felt bad about staying shut up in her room, so this morning, she forced a (hopefully) convincing smile just for her. "Morning, Mom," Alice said, putting some bounce in her step. Fiona looked up, surprised at her daughter's upbeat greeting, but nonetheless, it brought a smile to her face. "Morning, honey." her mother replied, finally sipping her coffee after the five minutes Alice had been standing behind her. In the beginning, Alice would have asked her mom where her dad, Ron, was, because he was usually up, doing... dad things she supposed. Or making breakfast sometimes. These days he was 'staying late' at work, or 'had to get there early'. Alice just figured he didn't want to be around while she was dying, while her mother was crying. And she felt hurt. She felt betrayed and abandoned... Alone even. Well, maybe that part was mostly her doing. When her friends called, she never answered, or bothered to call back. She only saw them on those days she went outside --and those days were rare. Alice had absently fixed herself some breakfast and was currently sitting at the table with her mother prattling on about something, so she decided to tune in. "Well, since you seem to be in such a chipper mood, why don't you go out for a walk? Take some of those lovely pictures, hm?" Her mother asked, reaching across the table for her daughter's hand, there was a smile on her face, but Alice could see those familar tears welling up in her eyes. 'Poor Mom.' She thought. "Wouldn't that be lovely, sweetheart?" She asked. Fiona looked about to cry, stroking Alice's hand with her thumb, waiting for her reply. "Yeah," Alice swallowed the lump in her throat, fighting down the stining sensation behind her eyes, "That sounds... great." Alice slipped her hand out from under her mother's before she saw the tears start a-drizzlin', she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her own dams from breaking. Alice wanted so badly to pull her parents into the family room, sit them down and tell them that she wasn't dead yet. She had at least a few months, maybe even a year or two still left in her! She sighed mentally, it didn't matter anyway at this point. Alice trudged back to her sanctuary, just wanting to crawl under the blankets of her bed and drift away. Didn't matter anyway, did it? She had no one to hang out with these days; the tense atmosphere was too unbearable for her to pretend she didn't notice. And where the hell could she go to forget about her terminal illness? Nowhere. Alice had nowhere to go where there were people who didn't look at her like she was a 'Dead Man Walking'. It pissed her off to no extent, she had barely spoken to her school friends since the summer had started... Which wasn't too long ago, but they kept calling her, leaving strained messages full of those small, awkward pauses. She just deleted those without even listening now. With a sigh, Alice began her morning ritual of getting herself presentable for the outside world. The world which held no interest for her anymore, but she had a disposable camera she needed to finish off, why waste it, though going outside was definitely not welcome, but it would make her mother a little happier to see Alice out and about like 'the good ol' days'. >βut, God, Don't Jus† §i† †hεrε< Alice-Irene Michelle Evans Your Standard Genius, 'Mad Scientist', Doctor Freakenstein, And .... Grave Robber? Alice-Irene had been happily whistling a the calming tune of 'I've Been Working On The Railroad', as she innocently dug of the grave of a total stranger who died.... Well, almost recently. She leaned herself against the shovel she was carrying and took in a deep breath of clean cut grass, and freshly dug up dirt. The red-headed, green-eyed Doctor Freakenstein could have sworn she could smell the formaldehyde and cheapy make up, the rotting tissue and organs. After her quick break, she went back to her job. Stick the shovel in, push it down with her foot, lift and swing it over her shoulder. That process was repeated several times. She repeated it, and repeated it until the blisters on her hands popped and started bleeding. With a frustrated sigh, Alice dropped the tool into her nice little wagon, next to a small cooler box, gingerly pulling the metal handle back down the hill. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, there was a loud, ear piercing scream and, she stumbled, letting out a squeak, she fell flat on her face. Birds chirped over head, somewhere in fog as she laid there in the grass. "Who the HELL just screamed?" She scowled, spitting out grass from her mouth and swore under her breath. There had better have been a good reason for such a disturbance, Alice had concluded, 'Like a zombie attack.' Such a thing would be expected in a graveyard, right? That was the only reason she could come up with for the scream. A sigh escaped her lips as she stood, gently brushing the grass from her pants and maroon lab coat. The blisters on her hands stung as she began her hike down the hill, over graves, and markers, towards the lake, humming her little tune once again. Maybe once she got there, she could have that Sunny D she was keeping in her cooler, it would cool the wounds until she could get home. "I've been workin' in the graveyard, all the live, long daaay." Alice sang, coming to the lake, she took a seat, kneeling down she took the lid off her cooler box and was greeted with a human hand. With a smile, she rifled through the ice, wincing at the cold against her open wounds, until her fingers wrapped themselves around her drink. Alice pulled her fingers from the cool ice and twisted the cap off slowly, swearing under her breath as the plastic grated over the blisters. Green eyes trailed over the the water and to a few yards away. She passed that tombstone every time she came here, grass was always nice, and once in a while there were flowers --from his parents probably. But today, something was off, Alice-Irene was pretty sure it looked different from that morning, the ground was disturbed.. like something. Her green eyes widened, darting over to the lakeside. And there, right there, was the charred body. "Holy s**t.... Leo?" She muttered. Well... Maybe |
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POSTS! (;
Louis Louis kept his smirk until the voice of Professor Zindello rang through his ears and before he knew it he was hoisted to his feet. He looked from Zindello to Alex and to Abigail and couldn't help but notice her hesitant movement to hug him. He let his head drop a little, keeping a small, yet disappointed smirk on his lips and nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's the creeps' fault." He said bitterly, sending a cold look to Alex. His chest felt a bit tight, like he was going to cry, but... that was absurd, screw crying. But he had to admit, being called a creep was a bit hurtful, he'd really done nothing to gain the Gryffindor's hatred and now Abigail seems a bit... shaken to even hug him like she had been so eager to minutes ago. He let out a small sigh and stood up straighter, painting a smug look on his face. "I started it all, though, it's really none of your business whom your sister wishes to be with, is it?" He sneered, "I'm not going to kill her or anything." He said, muttering the last part. He wasn't really a bad kid, really. Sure he liked to mess with people, but that was just how he was. And he was interested in Alex, but not to a great extent, he just found him rather nice, but the boy hated him so... there wasn't much he could do. Now, Abigail was sweet and he wouldn't mind having her for a girlfriend, but judging by the way she was acting at the moment after her finding out he swung both ways she might not be as interested as she had been. But... who could tell at this point in time? "Professor, I was here in the library before either of them arrived with a fellow house member, then Abigail came in and we began to talk and.. flirt, if you will." he began, deciding to get the whole thing out of the way in one fell swoop. "And her brother, Alex arrives not to much later and shouts to her to get away from me." Like I carry the plague or something just a horrid. He thought to himself. "Then I proceed to taunt him I suppose by openly showing my affection towards her, which only provoked Alex to take a swing at me, to which I returned." He sighed, "Which led to an all out fight between myself and Alex with Abigail watching helplessly on the sidelines as we were too preoccupied to listen to her and then you arrived..." |
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 ɱuɱɱy ∂σε§η`τ hąvε a » H E A D « aηyɱσяε xxxxxxkεεp iτ uη∂εяηεaτh ɱy BED τhaτ'§ [ A ℓ ℓ R I G H T ] xxxxxxτhaτ'§ {σKAY} §hε ✖η ε v ε я✖ яεaℓℓy ○u§ε∂○ iτ aηyωay xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ❤ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx βℓσσ∂y ɱaяy ƒεεℓ§............... ❤    ✖§ℓAP ME, KICK ME, §CREAM✖  {◊°αℓicε-Irεnε →Michεℓℓε← εvαns°◊} Is... >βut, God, Don't Jus† §i† †hεrε< ✖○ωhαtεvεr HαÞÞεns βα¢κstαgε §tαϒ§ βα¢κstαgε○✖ |
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 ɱąяy - ɻσhąηηą - ƒℓεtchεя Ⓦⓗⓐⓣ Ⓨⓞⓤ Ⓐⓛⓡⓔⓐⓓⓨ Ⓚⓝⓞⓦ: мy στħεѓ §εℓƒ: »σne, Twσ ƒяe∂∂ie's Coming ƒσя Yσu« ßůτ yσů cąη cąℓℓ мε ..: »Bloody Mary, Mar, Mary« ∂ση’τ ευεѓ cąℓℓ мε..: »Why don’t I just Let You F I N D O U T …? « į ħąυε τħį§ мąηy cąη∂ℓεs σn мy cąkε: »Seventeen years young« įsη’τ įτ ą §ůѓpѓį§ε?: »Femme Fatal« į cąη’τ §τσp §τąѓįηg..: »At them pretty little boys« Ⓓⓞⓝ’ⓣ Ⓙⓤⓓⓖⓔ Ⓐ Ⓑⓞⓞⓚ Ⓑⓨ Ⓘⓣⓢ Ⓒⓞⓥⓔⓡ.. įτs ηąτůѓąℓ..: » βlack as the Ace of ♠s« βεħįη∂ τhε§ε εyε§: »ßluɜ« į’υε βεεη τσℓd į’m: »ąmerican« cąяεƒůℓ tħїs cσůℓ∂ Ьε yσůя ∂σωηƒąℓℓ.. »į'm a camper, ɱummy & ∂addy say I'm cяazy!« Ⓓⓞⓝ’ⓣ Ⓖⓔⓣ Ⓣⓞⓞ Ⓒⓛⓞⓢⓔ.. Ⓨⓞⓤ Ⓜⓐⓨ Ⓕⓘⓝⓓ Ⓞⓤⓣ Ⓢⓞⓜⓔⓣⓗⓘⓝⓖ Ⓨⓞⓤ Ⓓⓞⓝ’ⓣ Ⓛⓘⓚⓔ. į ℓσυε įτ!: »Sharp objects, scary stories, dead things, lolita styled clothes, crimson red, wristbands, bead bracelets, lypton tea, nutella, smoking, night, belts, fingerless gloves, sarcasm, teasing, sewing dead animals together & scaring people« į ℓσąτħε įτ!: »authority, wussy people, fakers, overly sensitive people, goodie-two-shoes, & dark comedy« cąη yσů kεεp ą §εcѓετ?: »I watched the Hannah Montana Movie... and I am ashamed« τąkε įτ σr ℓεąυε įτ, τħį§ į§ мε: »I suppose I'm what "normal" people would call me crazy or insane, psychotic even! I consider myself.... Mentally adventurous, it has a nicer ring to it. I like to mess with people's heads and freak them out; call it a specialty of mine. I'll just hide behind a corner or behind a door and jump out at you for my own kicks. I'm also the type of person who'd laugh at someone else's pain, call me a sadist if you wish, it doesn't really matter what you think anyway. Ever since I was small, I've never been able to sit still, I like going off on "adventures" all over, it doesn't matter it I know where I'm going, or my location, as long as I'm having a good time, then it's all good. I assume that everyone has heard that lovely sayings 'revenge is a dish best served cold' and 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' Those words couldn't be more true when I get really pissed off. I can get pretty... scary when I'm mad, but I'm generally a nice person... I's just insanely morbid. The gorier something is the better. I'm that kid poking the dead animal in the eye with a stick just to see what it feels like « ℓį§ετη ůp, į ωση’τ τεℓℓ Yσů τħį§ ągąįη: »Welcome To Life - Well, it all started when I was born... Or when I was conceived, but let's not get into the raunchy details, wouldn't want to mentall scar you so early in the story... Or do I? ANYWAY! I was born to a lovely lady named Elizabeth and her handsome husband Robert. Both of them were very happy to finally have me in their lives. I was probably the most planned baby ever to have been made. Before they'd even started doing the dirty, they'd picked out names (both male and female), the color and location of my nursery, what classes they were going to take and... all that jazz. The Troubled Years - After I hit six, I had shown a slightly disturbing interest in the dead things around the house such as bugs --since my parents made quite sure we never have rodent problems--, but once in our backyard, I'd seen a neighborhood cat kill the biggest rat I'd ever seen! I did nothing to make the cat stop, I just stared in awe as the natural business of the animals as the predator ripped into the rat. I listened to it shriek, it was like an intoxicating scene to behold. When My parents came outside to see what I was up to, they said I had a big grin on my face. Not the grin of a child, but... they described it (in my later years) as a sadistic twist of my lips. Teenagers! - I hit fourteen and had been to several therapists for a little hobby I'd acquired. Well, you see, It's apparently not very lady-like to take small deceased animals and sew them into a banner-eqsue thing. My mother fainted from the shock when she saw me working on my little project. There had been many a phone call from my school informing my parents of creepy drawing I'd doodle in class. I WAS JUST EXPRESSING MYSELF.... By way of... drawing a few classmates dying in several different ways, and they stunted my creativity, how mean! The years progressed and the school system and my parents hand problems with my morbidness. They didn't (and still don't) understand the pleasure I got watching some kid get injured in classes, or my fascination with blood, slasher films. My parents think I may have a second personality, because I just can't actually like any of this stuff, so, as sort of a reform, I got sent off to camp to get rid of these 'inner demons'.« βεħįη∂ τħį§ Mąsk: »Her Acoustic Heart« |
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx;D Profiles!!
✖✖______●●●______✖✖ Alice-Irene Evans The Diagnosed  Life's Too Short
But, what is said »»Aim, Aime, Alice, Irene, Alice-Irene (For parents and strangers). If memory serves »» Eighteen It's whats there »» Femme Fatal The standards used »» Straight as a 180degree line The little things done »» Got myself a scar on my right ring finger. Got it slammed in the car door --ouch. My ears are pierced, no tats just yet. Won't be able to enjoy'm anyway.
• Honesty - If someone wants your opinion, why lie? • Stressed - Well, I'm DYING. • Self-Reliant - I can take care of myself, I don't need anyone's help. I've got a job, and money saved up. • Pride - I hate it when people feel bad for me. Once again, I don't need help. • Decisive - It's annoying, even if I'm dying, I know what I want... most of the time. • Indifference - My life doesn't really mean much to me anymore. I could die tomorrow for all I care. It'd be better than just waiting for it. • Loyal - I'd never stand for someone bad mouthing a friend of family member of mine. No matter who they are, I won't stand for rudeness. • Protective - Hurt my friends/family, I'll hurt you, I might be dying, but I'll take you with me if I have to. • Self-Control - I'm not going to snap at you for a mistake, and I won't go crazy just because someone else is. I'm not about to go out there and drink myself happy or anything. • Withdrawn - No one can help me at this point in my life. Not unless they're Jesus or something, making new friends, or acquaintances just to up and die. That's a depressing thought. You come up and talk to me, I might not say much. •Scared - Well, I'm dying, ya know? It's a scary thing to go through... I watched my grandmother die and it was pretty.. I can't even explain. • Depressed - Death does that, right? Makes you sad. I'm definitely sad. I even cut a little while back. Like it's going to solve anything, right? It's not going to make me any better. • Angry - Life isn't frikkin' fair! Why am I the one who's gotta die, huh? I've got plenty of years left in me! I could live to be one hundred if I tried! STUPID CANCER! • Stubborn - I won't take the treatment, there's no point. It won't make me better, the doctors already told me. I'll just sit here and rot, thankyouverymuch. • Silent - I just don't want to talk about my problems anymore. I'll let it sit inside me, until it explodes. • Hateful - I hate the fact that no one can do a thing for me. Not my parents, my friends, or my doctor. No one. • Weak - Even I can't do anything. All I can do is cry, and push people away. I hardly talk to any of my friends now. Or my parents, I don't even talk to myself.
Every time I cough, or don't feel like eating --and I'm losing weight -- they look at me like I'm about to explode. They treat me like glass, and now they never go out anymore. My mother sits on the couch looking at albums all the time and goes through boxes of tissues like they were socks, or candy. Sometimes she comes up for air, a sad smile on her face and says, "Oh, Alice-Irene... Do you remember this? You were so happy... We were so happy before..." And then she breaks down into tears. I don't know what to do for her. I can't say "It's going to be okay, mom. I'll get better." Because it's a lie. I let that cough --the blood-, that shortness of breath, I let it go on too long. And now there's no way to stop it. Dad, he always seems busy now. He works a lot more, I think he's volunteering for longer hours, overtime, just so he doesn't have to face me. Me and my damned Lung cancer. What happened to my happy life? My tight family, just seem s distant... Expect when they cry together. I cry took, sometimes, but you will tell NO ONE. I cry when I'm alone, and sure no one can hear me. I may be sad, and depressed, but God, I'm not going to let people see me in my weak time. I HATE pity. The 'I'm so sorry' and 'How are you feeling?' It makes me want to PUKE! I tend to just shy away from people these days, they're annoying. They think I can't see the looks of pity, those looks that tell me they don't know what to say. It's torture; knowing you're going to die, and waiting for that day when you... just won't wake up. » My (EX)Boyfriend - Oh, wow. Michael Baxter. He was the man, he was my man. We'd been dating for about ten months. Ten long, fantastic months. We were going to get married. Let me say it again for you: MARRIED! Go to college, get married, have kids, a house. In retrospect, it seems stupid now, we weren't together long enough to think about marriage, hell, most people my age shy AWAY from that idea. This story doesn't last long, I promise. But, when I found out, I just... I couldn't take it. I got mad. I was downright PISSED, at the world, myself, my family, Michael. That was stupid too, they had nothing to do with it, they didn't cause this. I was a complete wreck --and I guess I still am. And when I told him, told him until I was in tears, coughing everywhere, I couldn't breathe... I even coughed up a little blood, he freaked. He wasn't going to stick around and watch me die, waste away. The p***k. Abandoned me when I needed him the most... » School & Friends - My GAWD, school. I nearly stopped going after I was diagnosed --In fact, I did. I was so upset. Then my mother and father knew a lot of the parents in my class, you know the PTA kind, involved in all sorts of functions and whatnot. Well, my mother told some of her friends --who couldn't hold water-- and then they told their kids... and wha-lah! The kids all know about little Alice-Irene and her cancer. People I don't even know coming up to me with their 'reassuring' hands on my shoulder. The pity in their eyes. One person that I vaguely knew came up to me and said, "Alice, I wish we could have become better friends". Wow, am I already on my death bed? My teachers can't even look at me the same way. They give me extensions on assignments, sometimes I don't even have to do them? And I wonder 'Why?', then I realize, it's because I'm DYING. I might not be ALIVE long enough to hand it in. Well, my friends, they just don't know how to act around me. Like I'll shatter into a million pieces. They don't know what to say either. I snapped at them once. "You're going to die," I said, "Three months is all you have. How are you going to take it?" They tell me to get out there, live, make memories... Why the hell would I want to make memories I'm never going to remember? Go to the beach, flirt shamelessly --because now I'm single once again--, get a tan. Why? So I'll look all spiffy in my goddamned coffin?! I yelled at them, called them stupid, I called them a lot of things. And they just sat there, and took it. If I wasn't dying, and had insulted them so much, they would have jumped up and SLAPPED ME SILLY. But this time... they didn't. They looked like they were on the verge of tears (and so was I mind you). And I screamed, "HIT ME!" I said, "CALL ME NAMES! KICK ME!" By this time, I was bawling, shouting at them through my tears, "DO SOMETHING!" Here I just broke down --totally unlike my old self. And I remember saying, "But, God... don't just... sit there." » My Diagnosis - This is also know as the 'Worst day of my LIFE'. This is the day I started hating my life. Hating my friends, family... everything. I'd been coughing for a long time, and I even caught pneumonia. Some days, I didn't eat, or feel like eating, which in turn, caused me to lose weight. But I knew something was seriously wrong when I started coughing up a little blood. I told my parents because, well, who wouldn't? Then I was whisked away tot he doctor. After some x-rays, and whatnot. Then whaddya know... The doctor comes in, my dad had just told a joke, but the look on my doctor's face made us stop laughing. I waited and watched her face, my hear slowly sinking into my stomach. That's when she said it, she said, "Alice, I'm sorry, but, you have cancer." And my world fell apart. After that I couldn't hear much, my brain felt like it just shut down, my heart was now well into my feet --maybe even on the floor. My mom seemed like she was pleading for another test, another scan just to prove it was a mistake. As if they would give me another x-ray, start laughing and proclaim it was just a 'chocolate' stain on my x-rays, that it was all a mistake. Somehow I managed to hear the part about 'Nothing much they can do' and 'would I like to go through treatment'. I flat out said no. I even repeated it, over and over and over again, just in case they didn't hear me the first twenty times. I even SCREAMED, I screamed, and screamed some more and fell into a fit of tears. And I hated myself for it too, for crying. I used to say to myself and friends that if I was going to die, I'd just accept it. It was an inevitable thing, right? But you certainly change your tune when it actually happens. » Overall - I just need... I need someone to get me out of this.. this s**t. You know? I need my family, but they can hardly look at me. I need my friends... but they don't know what to do or say. I need Michael... But he left me all alone it seems. I don't want someone to pity me. I want to just throw in my towel now, and be through with it... Or have someone SLAP me across the face and tell me to 'get a grip Alice-Irene!'
[ »» Feels so right «« ]
♪ Music - Probably the only thing that keeps me sane these days. I could tell my life story with songs. ♪ Cypress[/]i - They're my favorite flower, small, but still pretty. Isn't it funny how they're a sign for death? Ironic, huh? ♪ Purple - Best. Color. EVER. ♪ (Emerald)Green - Second best color! Purple + Green = Guerple, haha! ♪ Strawberry Shampoo/Conditioner - It just smells so good! ♪ Stuffed Dogs - They're cute, okay? I have like ten plus some more somewhere in my house. I sleep with one named Rufus, he's adorable. ♪ Dinosaur Vitamins - Dinosaurs, hello? And they taste good, with a kick at the end. ♪ The Sims Games - What's a better way to pass the time by? The Sims rock my socks, and I can play for HOURS without getting bored. ♪ Photography - It's a good way to just... relax and get my mind off of things, ya know? ♪ My Solitude - It's nice to be alone, so I CAN think about my situation. ♪ Cargo Pants - THE POCKETS! SQUEE! ...No one heard or saw that. [ »» Blackens the soul «« ]
✖ My Ex - Obvious reasons. ✖ Meeting new people - It's saddening that I won't be able to stay around long enough. ✖ The Fact I'm Not Going To Get Old - I want my golden years people! I want to be happy in retirement with my husband, grandkids, kids, etc. ✖ Life - How emo is that? Eh, dying makes you feel that way I guess. Unless you're ready for it. ✖ Being Scared - I should just accept it, stop being afraid of the Grim Reaper. ✖ Happy People - They're just annoying, telling me to make the best of it. It's awful hard to focus on 'the best of it' when all you can think about is if you're going to be alive in the morning. Will you go nice, or die painfully? ✖ Fruit Cake - Random, I know. But who the hell came up with that bright idea? ✖ Emo Kids - They whine about everything. I'd like to see one of them with a terminal disease. Then they'd be real emo, huh? ✖ Bees - I'm scared to death of them. I flinch when something buzzes near my head. Sometimes, I can't even move, and I tense up.
The label »» Girl Three » The Diagnosed Watching over silently »» [Murderess] Squish   " METIS AVERY LIONA ROBERTS " » [ fresh - soph - jr - sr ]  » i am STAGE CREW MANAGER»Welcome Baby, What's Your Name? ○ Okay, this is me, prepare to be astonished! Ha ha. It all started out with my being born, (obviously). I was a bit early, freaked out my mom and ruined her favorite dress with my... baby juice? Whatever. My older brother Steven had to give my hysterically, going-into-labor mother a ride to the hospital with four other (rowdy) boys in tow, dad had been at work that day and raced to the hospital after a speedy phone call from Jonas. And that's how it happened. I was born into a family of seven... eight plus me. Big family, right? You betcha, it's crazy. My parents must have been drinking a bit of the happy juice when I was named, because I've got the most unusual out of the six of us. My parents named their children Steven, Mark, Jack, Jason, Joseph and Metis. Metis. I like my name, don't get me wrong, but it's so out of place with the others! My name is pronounced May-TEE, and yes, I have heard the pirate joke about it. »That Thing We Call 'Childhood' ○ So.... Having five older brothers was is pretty eventful. They didn't treat me like glass after I turned about six; then I was 'one of the boys'. And before you ask, yes, I can through a football, I didn't care enough to learn the actual RULES of football, all I understand is the 'throw, catch, RUN LIKE HELL' concept of the game. I grew up basically like a boy. My mother could NEVER buy me a dress that I didn't wind up getting covered in some kind of grim. My two eldest Brothers, Steven (33) and Mark (26) are now out of the house, but check in every couple of months. Now, my other older brothers (triplets, way to go parental units!) Jason, Jack and Joseph (18 ), are still around, getting ready for college. When I started school, they took care of me pretty well, and let me play with them and their friends. It was helpful, but I never really managed to make too many friends on my own. Sometimes I did, and mostly with the boys. »Problems, Everyone Has Them ○ As the years progressed I was introduced to the 'that's what S/HE said' trend. Now, being around mostly boys (and a selective choice of females), I developed what I like to call U.C.F.P.M.D., which stands for UnCalled For Pervert Moments Disorder. Once you are around me, you will understand what I mean; people have to watch what they say around me, because it could be turned into a sexual innuendo (...in-HER-ENDO! You see? It's almost like turrets, but not... okay it's NOTHING like that.). Sometimes I just can't help myself, especially if it's very obvious. I can't tell you how many I've cracked at the most inappropriate times, but hell, if I can make'em laugh, I'll do it. It's also a good ice breaker sometimes. »High School NEVER ENDS ○ Okay, high school. I go there... duh. I'm actually interested in Drama. I like to act.. I guess, but hell, there are people who're way better so I step aside. Haha, besides, being in charge of probably a nice portion of extremely important materials is fun, and being in charge of getting people to es-tee-eff-you. I'm also acquaintances with the Drama Club Pres. She's pretty nice, but what a temper! Jeezie-Creezie! I have to be aware of her mood so I can clear the path when she flies off the handle bars. The poor little underclassmen might get emotionally scarred if left to fend for themselves with she rants and raves. But, I can understand it, it's her last year, she wants to go out with a bang... Or... was she always like that? Hm... »Shakespear's Metis' Tragedies ○ You know, I can't really say that I've had any of these yet. There isn't much drama in the section I work on for the Club. Um.. lemme think... My iPod fell int he toilet once... But that's not that tragic... I got another one the next week, but straight up, my life hasn't been all butterflies and rainbows! Wait!!! My Aunt Kathleen! She died, and I was really close to her as a kid. She always played the piano for me and I'd dance around her living room when we went to visit when I was a kid. She also got me into theatre and drama. It was pretty nifty, she even got me a tiny part in a play she was doing in the community. I think I was some... kid. Yeah, I know it's really 'descriptive' but hey. I think it was Carousel, about some chick and a bad boy who got married or something... The guy died at the end. Anyway, I used to do plays with my aunt a lot, or sit with her behind stage and help as best as I could. Then when I was about eight, she got hit by a car on the way home.... And that's my tragedy.
» ♪Drama, ♪My Brothers, ♪Foxes (weird I know, but they're cute) » Reading (mostly scripts), Playing Catch, Acting (I guess), just chilling » The bomb Drama Club Kids! » Nicknames (so far) = Pirate, Lass, Pirate Lass, May, May-May, Mal and Red » I do have a car, it's a VW van baby, gotta love the room it has. » I have a dog, I named him Johnny-Cake "I DON'T Have A DIRTY Mind" [Murderess] Squish  ALEXANDER NORTH DAYS » ALEX, AN-D (ANDY), AL, « born on FEBRUARY FOURTEENTH. SEVENTEEN years young. standing tall at 5'7". SLIM physique. the irresistible MR. TAKE-IT-EASY
Middle school; that place where you start making a 'name' for yourself, so to speak. New friends, more classes, puberty, hair in places it wasn't before, bad B.O., locker rooms. Yeah! Now, all through the years, I never once had a crush on a girl. Sure, they were pretty, nice to look at even, but none never held my attention. Never hung up on some chick that didn't know I was alive, in fact, I made a lot of girl friends in middle school. Middle school was the 'dawn of realization' in my life. Never once did I stare at a girl's rump during P.E., nor talk about their boobs. The only thing that seemed to send me into a drooling stupor, was in the locker room. How embarrassed was I? I tried my damnedest not to stare, and it was then, that I realized I wasn't like my fellow brethren. I was gay, and I wasn't surprised either. It was like, my mind already knew, somewhere in the back of my mind since elementary school, and was just waiting for the rest of myself to get up to speed. I was pretty much okay with the fact I wasn't straight, there wasn't really any difference, I just liked boys and that was that. Most of my friends didn't care either, as long as I promised not to pinch their a**, we were good. Haha! I was still Alex, the average kid, but I liked well, the boys, and, well, tighter pants! Knowing, and being accepted was great for me. But with the parents, it was almost like treading on eggshells. In the years prior to my 'awakening', I'd asked both parents about their views on homosexuals (after a short course of sex ed. in fifth grade). Mom, while not being a real church-goer, was raised to believe that homosexuals were bad, basically, 'Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve'. My dad, well, he's the same way, I guess, they freaked him out a bit, being a football-loving-beer-drinkin' man he is. He wasn't too thrilled with the fact his 'little man' was a man-lover when I decided to come out to them too. But, my parents love me, and they just want what's best for me... Even though they clearly can't see that sending me away isn't going to help. 'You can't fix what isn't broken,' right?
[Murderess] Squish Chracters Name: Louis Nicholas Nickname: Louis is fine Age: Fifteen Grade: Sophomore Gender: Male Celebrity: Stuart Townsend Picture:  Appearance: &&Eye Color:Green, almond shaped eyes, long eye lashes &&Hair Color:Brown, wavy, usually down past his ears or cut short &&Height:5’8 &&Overall:Louis is a pretty boy, in a good way. He had amazing wavy brown hair that falls past his ears and hang slightly in front of his two incredible green, almond shaped eyes. He has a clear complexion and the perfect face structure, high cheek bones, perfectly sculpted chin and long lashes. His skin has a nice olive tone to it with no spots or blemishes, as far as the eye can see. Louis is tall and lean for his age, standing at 5’'8" and weighing in around 145 lbs, but this is not to say that he isn’t muscular. He doesn’t have the body of a geek but rather the body of an athlete. As far as dressing goes, Louis usually grabs whatever's on the top in his drawers and the color scheme revolves around...brown to black, and mostly darker colors. Louis likes to blend in with what ever is around him and his standard pieces of clothing are his dark green hoodie and an earring in his left ear. Clique: Rebel Clique: Floater Personality: Louis is the type of guy who will do just about anything, always up for a challenge and has a great interest in girls… and boys. That’s right, little Louis Tristan Nicholas is bisexual. He’s rather flirtatious, most of the time, but once you get past all of his sexual innuendos, he’s a rather cool guy to be around and hilarious. And smart… when he wants to be. With his rather daring personality, he's impatient he tends to believe he is God… or something close. Immortal if you will, which is a tremendously annoying trait he has (or so he’s told). Louis wants to be accepted, one of his fears, among other things… like horses. He hates feeling helpless, it makes him weak, so he claims, and he has better things to do that mope and whine about small things he deems stupid, therefore he keeps all his problems to himself. And when he does get affected, he tends to go into a downward spiral for a bit, seeking out no one and nothing for consolation and going into a serious mood. When his parents are present he tends to get 'out of hand' to get their attention. He will do just about anything to make them notice him and stay, he even started up smoking, taking his Aunt's boyfriends from their jacket pockets at the dinner table. Louis likes to get under people's skin and taunt them, it gives him much joy in doing so. His Aunt and little brother are always his targets for the most part, but messing with others (especially ones he doesn't know) is his entertainment. Louis can be quite determined if it's something he wants (for example, his parent's attention). With this determination it also makes him blind to what could happen after he takes action. But most of the time, Louis Tristan Nicholas is laid back and goes with the flow of things. Family: Father: Ian Nicholas Mother: Ophelia Weatherly Aunt: Beatrice Weatherly (Temporary care-taker) Brother (one year younger): Aaron Ian Nicholas History: Louis was born in San Francisco in 1992 to a couple by the name of Ian and Ophelia Nicholas. Bother very busy parents, Ian a businessman and Ophelia, his secretary, were always off somewhere in the world on business matters Louis never cared to question. With his last remaining grandparents in Florida, Louis and his brother were forced to stay with their mother's sister, Beatrice. Now, since Beatrice had never had her own children, she had a difficult time dealing with Louis and Aaron. And Louis, with his slightly impatient ways, got fed up with her ways of trying to care for his brother and himself. So, Louis took things into his own hands and became Aaron's temporary parent while Auntie Bea went out on her many dates, many of which came home with her and left in the early mornings around five, the usual time Louis was up. He'd exchange a few words, very few with the man, inquiring why he was leaving, what turned him off and told him to lock the door behind him quietly. Louis at times was almost like a parent to both his thirty-year-old Aunt and brother. One year, when he was thirteen, Louis got a hold on a packet of cigarettes and took it to his room, where he smoked on, got sick and smoked the rest on his balcony. Our little Louis is indeed, bisexual as stated. This is one of his big secrets only shared with his brother. He has basically few friends so the information has not left the confidance of his brother, Aaron. Louis first decided he was bi after a 'kiss' he had to preform in his drama class (only take for the art credit since he can't draw for beans). He liked it, too, and gained a little crush on the guy by the name of James something or other (he can't remember his last name. But the crush past but Louis still felt attracted to his gender as well as the female gender. It wasn't really a stressful thing to him, he could use it to his advantage with his parents if need be. |
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