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«x» ___ Sohma Shouhei ___ «x»
» b a s ii c s . o f . l ii f e «
→ a. k. a. ≠ Michie calls me Shou..she is the only one.
My patrons called me Kiyoshi..I never want to hear that name again.
→ candles on a cake ≠ Twenty-six
→ surprise day ≠ December 21st
→ I am . . . ≠ Hmph. Truthfully, I would simply call myself sexual; I need such things to fill a void in me that can never be filled, and I don't care who is giving me the thing I crave so desperately.
→ work, work, work ≠ I never finished high school; when I was released from the mental institution, I somehow wound up finding work as an escort. I was a companion for wealthy businessmen, and I was paid based on how enjoyable I made the time they spent with me. It was demeaning, but it saved me from having to live off of Michie's hard work.
» d ii g ii n g . d e e p e r «
→ image in the mirror ≠ I suppose it would be safe to say that I, like the rest of the cursed Sohmas(even the twisted ones, like myself..), am breathtaking in a way. While Michie inherited our mother's black hair and our father's blue-grey eyes, I was born with something else entirely. It would be inaccurate to call my hair gray, or white. It is a brilliant silver color, and I wear it long. It is most likely as long as my younger sister's; it wasn't as though I bothered allowing anyone to cut it when I was locked away. However, possibly even more interesting than my hair, are my eyes. They are green, yes, but a luminous, catlike green, framed by impossibly thick lashes..fitting for my role as a snake, I suppose. My face is delicately structured; I have rather full lips, a slender jawline, and a slim nose. It would be easy to think me a woman, from a distance..a fact that I am not entirely pleased with.
I stand at an even six feet; that's fairly average for where I used to live, I suppose, but apparently that is a bit taller than average in Japan. I'm fairly thin, considering that I do not take the best of care when it comes to my health. However, I am not underweight technically, so it should be all right. My weight is pretty evenly distributed, and I have a distinctly feminine build. I have slim shoulders and a slender waist, with an almost womanly curve to my hips. My legs are long, and I have had many a customer point them out as the favorite part of my anatomy, after my face. Perhaps it's simply because they are well suited to wrap around someone's waist as if I am enjoying the service I am giving them.
When it comes to clothing, again, I have no fondness for anything special. I like button down shirts, and basic slacks. Traditional Japanese clothing doesn't appeal to my in the slightest, although some of the more simple things are rather comfortable. I prefer calm colors; usually white, black, or grey. However, I do have a particular fascination with the color red. It's rare if I do not have something red on my person at any point in time. Sometimes I will wear crimson shirts, but it's usually nothing more than a bracelet The only other thing I am rarely seen without is a shell necklace that I was given for one of my earlier birthdays. I'm not even sure why I wear it; there is no lingering affection attached to the object, as Michie wasn't the one who gave it to me. I suppose I'm simply fond of it.
→ sides of me ≠ I'm violent. Truly, there is little else to my personality. I was diagnosed by a therapist as suffering from schizophrenia and monomania when I was still a teenager. I am not quite in touch with reality, and the only thing I can really focus on is my own anger. Whether I look calm or not, I am constantly seething, constantly looking for some way to vent my anger. However, I rarely have outlets for my rage, so I keep it held in. I am superficially calm and collected, my rage concealed beneath the surface. I'm good at remaining calm, keeping myself from flying off the handle. However, if I make a turn for the worse, and my anger gets the best of me, there is no containing me. My goal is to hurt myself, hurt anyone and anything within easy reach, until my anger is spent or I am simply too worn out to continue. It's usually the latter. And honestly? I don't even know why I'm angry. It's simply there, a rage that has been within me since I was born. Even if I want to be happy, there isn't much that makes me that way.
I am truly a hypocrite. If I am not content, then the people around me have no place to be, and I often have to physically hold myself back to keep away from committing some sort of act of senseless brutality. There is nothing, no one that means anything to me, but I must mean something to other people. Even if I am nothing more than a source of nightmares, I am not content to be viewed in an apathetic light. I suppose one could say that I am attached to my zodiac. I want them to stay near me. However, at the same time, I want nothing more than to destroy them in any way possible. I can remain composed in the face of strangers, but my temper is more volatile in the presence of my own Zodiac. It's kind of funny, I suppose. Well..it's funny if your sense of humor is anything like mine. I guess I'm a sordid b*****d, altogether. Normal people are rarely worth my attention, but my dear, twisted Zodiac..they are worthy of seeing my rage.
Now then. I guess I should explain to you how it works around me, depending on my mood. If I haven't been pushed over the edge, I'm honestly a pretty good conversationalist. I'm rather intelligent, if I do say so myself, and I enjoy intelligent conversation. I do not have a soothing presence, but I do remain calm when faced with a decent conversation. I really am not difficult to talk to, if you do not have something foolish to say. If I'm in a bad mood, however...I am quick to get angry at the smallest things. I am constantly under stress, constantly trying to refrain from murdering anyone. If I seem stressed, then please. I am not quite stable, and though I may seem to be on the verge of tears one moment, I will most likely injure the person who attempts to comfort me.
→ retell the tale ≠
Ah, so you want to hear the tale? Hear why I am the way I am? The doctors will call it psychosis, E-PTSD, anything to justify themselves, but I suppose I can give you my side of the story, can't I?
The first thing to note is that my parents were indifferent to my existence. My father was a Sohma. Ironically, his grandfather was none other than Kyo Sohma, although that person died quite some time before I was born. As for my mother? She was British, a businesswoman who had been relocated to Japan. I suppose there's was an affair like any other; they had no intentions of getting married, but that changed when my mother became pregnant. They were married before she had even reached five months, and two months later, there I was, a bit too early for my own good. My grandmother said that I was completely quiet when I was born, rather than screaming as all other newborns do. Perhaps that was the first sign that I wasn't quite right. I was capable of talking by the time I had reached nine months of age, but I was almost two before I started walking. The first time they tried to let me walk, I ended up falling and hitting my head on the low coffee table. That was when they found out about the hemophilia I had inherited from my mother's side of the family. I suppose I was fortunate that I didn't die from a head injury at such a young age.
From that point on, everything I did was controlled by my parents, to prevent me from being injured. I suppose they did it for my own good, but I didn't want to be controlled. There was always something there, even when I was small, that made me want to be the one doing the controlling. Mother moved us back to London, closer to her family, and I went to school in Britain. Well, I tried to go to school there. I was not the most healthy of children, and my unexplainable anger issues surfaced by the time I was six. The school counselor told my parents I was simply insistent on being the center of attention, but that wasn't it. There was something missing in me, and I didn't know what it was, and I was angry because of it. I think I was starting to suffer from psychosis when I was still in primary school, so I was rather unstable. So much so that I eventually had to be schooled at home.
My private teacher was an insufferable creature, that much I can say with no difficulty. I believe the man had a bigger God complex than I did; I had to do everything his way, or I would be forced to do it all over from the beginning at even the slightest mistake. My parents were often working, and the only thing they told me was that I had to do it. I tried lashing out a few times, as any rebellious child would do, but there wasn't anything that could be done. So I learned. I learned to bide my time, to control my anger, to watch and wait until I had an opportunity. I never got an opportunity, so I was thrust back into a public school system with enough rage built up to last for a lifetime. I was almost at the breaking point by the time I walked home from my first day of highschool.
I completely lost myself that night, and I'm not even sure why.
When I came home from school, my parents were both home in time for a nice family meal, for once. It started out well enough, I suppose. Mother and Father spoke over my head as they always did, as if I merely wasn't there. Perhaps if it had stayed like that, they might have lasted one more day. However, one of them, I can't remember which, asked me something. It was a simple question that most parents would ask their child. "How was your day?" That one question, however, was a form of attention I was unaccustomed too. For whatever reason, it pushed me over the edge. I don't clearly remember the details, but that was the last time I have any recollection of seeing them.
It took three days before anyone came to look for my mother or father after the former had failed to show up for work. What they found was a fourteen year old boy sitting at a table covered by a thoroughly bloodstained cloth, staring at something that wasn't even there. The 'proper authorities' had me evaluated by a psychiatrist. Post traumatic stress disorder, psychotic depression, and schizophrenia; I was considered mentally unstable, as if I didn't already know that. According to the psychiatrist, I had been suffering from such things for years, and they had obviously been largely untreated. Therefore, I was apparently not responsible for my actions; however, when my grandmother was given custody over me, she decided that I would do better locked up. After all, she had been given a lengthy list of medications that I had to take to keep me sane, but all they did was make me want to release my anger in consistent, violent bursts. So I was put in a mental institution 'for my own benefit.'
It took approximately five months before I was kept in a room by myself because of my constant bursts of rage. They considered diagnosing me as bi-polar and medicating me for that, but I did not have moodswings. I had one mood, and that was angry. It took only two weeks before I lost my temper yet again. This time, there was nothing around to hurt, so I injured myself instead. It was then that the doctors were made consciously aware of my hemophilia, and I eventually had to, quite literally, be kept in a padded room. I remained there for a good six years too, until my grandmother died. It was just a few months before my twenty-first birthday, and in that time, I had once again learned to control my anger, to let it continue to build up. It was not healthy, but I could fool the therapists, make them think I really was calm. Stupid, stupid people.
Since my grandmother was dead, and I was not considered dangerous to society, I checked myself out, paid the last of my medical bills, and had a nightmare the very first night I was out of that place. as soon as I had figured up how much money I had remaining, I transferred what I could into an account in Japan, purchased a plane ticket, and returned to the place of my birth. There was something there that I needed to fill a hole in me, and I had no idea what it was. I purchased an apartment, and spent nearly five years looking for it. Much of the time, my searching led into the arms of other people, people I cared nothing about, but that restless void in me prevented anything from satisfying me. It was simply attention, something that would keep me content for a few moments when it came from people who simply were not worth my attention.
I don't recall what brought me to the Sohma Estates, eleven years to the day after I had been locked up as per my grandmother's request, but it mattered very little. I gave them my father's surname out of pure instinct, and that was how I learned about my role in the curse. I suppose it's fitting for a violent creature such as myself, but the mere knowledge of my place in life made that hole a little smaller. It was decided that there would be a banquet, and that even the pathetic outcasts of my own little circus would be invited.
And I must say, I'm quite anxious to meet them.
→ don’t tell a soul ≠ There are two things in my past that you have no business knowing.
First, it is no concern of anyone's, save for Michie, that I was viewed as criminally insane at the age of fifteen.
Second, the job I had as an 'escort' is no one's business. Period. I was nothing more than an expensive prostitute, and that is behind me now.
» p e r s o n a l . ii n f o r m a t ii o n «
→ i love ≠ Being afraid
Sweets
Snow
Blood
Popcorn
Affection
The Ocean
Eyes
→ get away ≠
Medicine
Shots
Being annoyed
Alcohol
Pain
→ shaking in my boots ≠
Dying
Bleeding
Being confined
Fire
→ getting power ≠
Calm
Intelligent
Determined
→ weak at the knees ≠
Violent
Psychotic
Vain
Paranoid
→ dance to the music ≠
Greenday vs. Oasis -- -- Wonderwall Boulevard
Nothingface -- -- Ether
Mudvayne -- -- Forget to Remember
Disturbed -- -- Dehumanized
Billy Talent -- -- Devil in a Midnight Mass
→ be an oracle ≠
No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks. -- Mary Wollstonecraft
» c u r s e d . f o r . l ii f e «
→ are there any animals in here ≠
The snake, twisted by h a t r e d
→ fur, spots, stripes ≠ animal appearance, one + paragraph
» t h e . b ii g . m a n «
→ behind the mask ≠ C 4 r t 0 0 n M u f f i n
→ skittles, taste the rainbow ≠
Will I ever FORGET to REMEMBER?
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