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 αƒιηα ƒαу вяσηωєη
The α ℓ т я υ ι ѕ т ι ¢ virtue of к ι η ∂ η є ѕ ѕ
t h e . [ B A S i C S ]
Call Me ; Afina, Afi, Nana, Fay. But never, ever, call me Fifi. I'm not a damn dog.
Label Me ; I do not come equipped with a joystick, I can assure you.
See Me ; I look for those with gaming pleasure >> Heterosexual.
Date Me ; S e v e n + t e n = S e v e n t e e n.
t h e . [ M i R R O R ]
What you should know about м є is . . .
I am Kindness.
I know what's going through that empty little mind of yours, "Oh, she must be so prissy, never doing anything bad and never getting her hands dirty!" Ha, your silly little presumptions make me laugh. Yeah, I am kind, I am nice, I am sweet. But beneath that layer of me lies a whole other layer of depth you probably never knew existed. Why? Because you've been too caught up in making new reasons to judge me, to hate me, to isolate me. I'm not perfect, I never was and I never ached to be. Why? Because everyone has a different definition of perfect. Blond hair, blue eyes, red hair, green eyes. Straight A's, aced tests, studying. Polos, light colors, pastels. No piercings, no tattoos, no hair dye, hair up, curly hair, straight hair. How about, I don't care? No really, I don't. I am who I am, I never try to be anything else than what I can possible be. This amounts to dyed black hair, a lip piercing, my ears being skewered six times each, a navel piercing, a spiderweb tattoo on the back of my right shoulder, a black butterfly on the left side of my collarbone and a blue and red butterfly on my left shoulder. Yeah, not so prissy now am I?
I'm pretty rude and sarcastic, once I get over the shock of someone actually talking to me. Yeah, I know I'm supposed to be all smiles and sunshine since I am a virtue, but sometimes, I just can't open that box within. You know, the one that holds all the good things inside of you, the one just begging to be opened. Just in case you didn't get it, that was a metaphor. There really isn't a box of everything good inside of you. Anyway, while I put up this brave and sweet facade, sometimes, the cruelty of the world is too much for me, so I just... retreat. I find shelter inside of myself and just linger there for days, going through the monotonous routine that is my life without any interest and minimal interaction. Once I am in this stupor, no one really knows when I'll come out. This act gives me time to reflect and decide what is truly important in my life and what I can live without. I am very reflective when it comes to things around me and tend to make critical observations on things that people don't even notice.
I am very emotional, the merest insulting comment will make me sad. Not enough to make me cry (unless it was something really bad), but it will hurt me enough for me to fall silent and hold it against you until you apologize or make it up to me in some way. I hold grudges, not the greatest thing I know, but... For being Kindness, I'm pretty cynical, rather than looking at the bright side of things, I always look for the things that can instantly drown the beautiful beneath tides of darkness. Bleak I know, you really don't have to remind me. I tend to blurt things without thinking, they are usually really rude and hurtful, but I am always quick with an apology. I hate lies and I hate liars. Even little white lies that are told often have negative consequences, which is why I do not lie. At all. I tend to get easily embarrassed, especially around those of the opposite sex. Blushing and quietness are my companions during those odd times, and it doesn't help that I'm pretty clumsy. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate love, hell, I don't even dislike it. Quite the contrary, I am in love with love, the very notion of it sends my heart into wild frenzies of palpitations. But as much I love it, I don't believe in it, or rather, I don't believe it will ever happen to me. I have pretty much given up on such a silly thing ever since my last boyfriend broke me, well, my heart. Same difference. One reason I have probably never found a date is because I have horrible balance. Tripping, knocking over things and spilling drinks are my talents, which is why I'm not much of a sports person. I tend to curl up with a nice book or maybe with my journal and write rather than play volleyball. I also love to sing and play the guitar, when I was younger I used to be in a band which is where my passion for music blossomed, I would die without music now.
One last thing, I love animals and would do anything to protect them. This includes the environment as well of course. Which is why I do everything I can to help them, recycle, clean up the streets, work at shelters, even in zoos, you name it. I can't stand animal abuse and am an active member of P.E.T.A, always taking my part in rallies and protests against animal testing or abuse. And since I love animals, I am not going to be a hypocrite and eat things like beef or pork, I am a hardcore vegetarian. Eating things that once lived, breathed, saw, shared and thrived in our world just doesn't do it for me, and I would rather keep it that way thank you very much. I despise the inhumane treatment of animals, such as animal testing or animal skinning for furs, and will do anything to prevent it.
I am a very complex person, and I have many secrets. I don't expect you to get me anytime soon, nor do I expect to get you. Don't overestimate me, don't underestimate me. Just. See. Me.
t h e . [ S T O R Y ]
Between м є and єηνу
See, it happened like . . .
Me again? Jeez, you know, I'm starting to feel rather self-centered.
It all began in a small town in Birmingham, England. My father, Joshua Malcolm Bronwen, was a man working on the moors of England, toting people back and forth, maybe even taking them out for a little fishing now and then. My mother, Renia Ala Martinez, was a thriving business woman with the health of an ox — strong and relentless, never once even catching a cold. She was in England for a business trip, taking over some company or perhaps negotiating with them for something her company needed. Point is, when it came time to go to the meeting, my mother had to ride a ferry across the moor in which my father worked — needless to say, he was the ferryman. It was like destiny — it was like love. No, scratch that, it was love. The meeting was canceled, traded instead for a night or fiery heat and burning ardor. The funny thing is that either they were too caught up in their passion to think about or maybe they forgot about bringing one key item along — a condom. In result, their sex cells combined and I was conceived. I am a child of a Spanish mother and an English father — so yes, I speak Spanish and do so fluently and often. I also have this slight British accent, some people like to mock me and laugh at me — I am very sensitive about it.
In case you haven't noticed, I am very different from other kids. This was true when I was little as well, always the outcast, always the one left out. I was — and am — a freak. I was always there though, when someone got hurt. When I was in elementary, a boy fell off the monkey bars, he had skinned his knee. I was there, I was the first one there — always. Handy with a band aid and some Neosporin, I had patched him up without the help of anyone else, this is how I met the Chaste one, sweet guy he is. Very shy though, possibly even more disastrous around the opposite sex than I am. This was my very first act of Kindness, ever since then, I've been looking out for people. Sounds quite virtuous doesn't it? I soon met the Temperate one after, borrowing lunch money I believe. You know, I don't think he ever paid me back, not that I really mind of course. I would do anything for a friend. As weird as I am, I never lacked a friend. The Chaste one and the Temperate one were always by my side, watching out for me as I do for them. Even when I reached high school, I stuck by them most of the time.
Through the end of middle school and start of high school I was quite the rebellious one, going through the phase that every teenager goes through, I started my short-lived life of minor crime. Stealing mostly, maybe mugging a few people here and there. Yeah, I know. I can see it on your face, "She's a virtue? Really?" Yep, sorry bub, but I am. Everything I did was for a reason. You see, my mother came down with cancer — leukemia, they told my father and I. My mother that was as strong as the foolhardy ox was dying. She was the one who supported us, she was the successful business woman, so when she went down, so did we. My father began working two jobs to keep up with the hospital bills, so he was not around much after that. Me? I began stealing, minor things of course. Flowers for my mother's room, a piece of jewelery we could sell, a couple of bucks I had pick-pocketed — you know, minor things. My father never questioned where they came from, he just... accepted them. Despite our efforts, my mother died. Pain and suffering were went through — both by her and by us. Every last bit of my mother's company money came to us and suddenly we were living the sweet life again — not that it would ever be really sweet again.
Since then, my father has been really different. Distant, cold. I suppose I've learned to mirror his feelings onto others because most people tend to stray away from me, not that I care. Ever since she died, I have really lived life as a semi-empty shell, still volunteering and still helping people of course, but never really relating to them, distant and cold — like father, like daughter. One day, something broke through the bleak clouds that hovered over me, obscuring my vision of everything that happened around me. He asked me out, my ex-boyfriend — Henry Scallow. I tried to love him, I tried everything to keep him near me. Adored him with every fiber of my being, I tried to be the perfect girlfriend, pleasing him in every way — except sex, I am proud to say I am still a virgin thank you very much — that I could, but I guess that was not enough. Wait, let me back up a bit here. Henry was... Something close to perfection, in my eyes at least. I had always spent time admiring him from afar, adoring him secretly and avoiding him whenever he trained his eyes and words at me. One day, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I couldn't believe it, it was a dream come true for me — everyone could see my personality do a 180. I was out of my deep stupor that pushed everyone away.
One day, I get the Envious one coming up to me asking for help on his History homework. I — of course — gracefully agree, happy to help anyone. Truth was, I had a bit of a crush on this guy. Even though I adored Henry, my heart was sent into frenzied palpitations every time the Envious one and I found something in common — whether was music tastes, or even favorite foods, I was surprised to see how similar we were. I was genuinely happy to be with him there, in the library helping him with something as trivial as homework. I don't know if he felt the same, but I felt a certain spark — one where there was none between Henry and I. We spent about an hour in the library, his homework was finished and we were conversing about our favorite books when Henry came in looking for me — it was time for our date. I was fearing the time with Henry because I knew it was not going to be a special as the one with the Envious one, I went anyway, waving goodbye to the Envious one and following Henry out.
It turned out that Henry was not worth the trouble, nor the effort. Nearly a week after, he dumped me. I was shattered, even more than when my mother died. I found no peace, not even in my sleep. Broken inside, I became the shell again, going through things like graduation blankly and without recognition. The only time my heart gave a start and threatened to beat again was when I looked at the Envious one, but my hopes were crushed by the fact that he was a Popular and I was a Freak, a kind Freak, but a Freak nonetheless. He never once saw me, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. Graduation soon took that gift from me and I haven't seen him since. I have given up on such a foolish thing as love, but I still have not forgotten him — is it selfish to linger on such a petty experience? Is it foolish to hold on to the time we spent together as if it meant the world to me, but meant nothing to him?
Is it?
ρяιη¢єѕѕ ναмριяєѕкα wills me to breathe.
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