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Mʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I'ᴍ ☆ Dramatic with a tendency to be a bit cynical at times. Or at least, I think they would if...ya know....I had any real friends...But that's besides the point! I'm what some people refer to as a "sensitive soul", you know. I cry almost every day, sometimes more than once a day. I just have such a big heart! I can't help myself. Good things, bad things, all kinds of in between things - doesn't matter why. I wear my heart on my sleeve and once those tears start they're like a waterfall! Sometimes I feel bad for the people around me because I know they get fed up with my water works but...if they just knew what it was like to see so much sadness...all the time...maybe they would cry a little bit too! Tragedy just seems to be drawn to me. I'm like a bad luck magnet, sometimes. Of course that doesn't mean I'm sad all the time, no! When you've been unfortunate all your life, like I have, you learn to let a lot of the little things slide and save most of your tears for the big, heart-wrenching moments...which I've had quite a bit of in my short seventeen years of life. The only terrible thing is that sometimes my tragedy has a tendency to wear off on the people around me too, so I have to make sure I don't get too emotionally attached to people and things around me because, nine times out of then, I end up causing them pain or misfortune without really meaning to. I spend a lot of time on my own, I think...I've learned to be okay with that. I don't mind finding my own ways to entertain myself when no one else really wants to be around. Most of the time I read books or watch movies whenever I can. Granted...I have an odd knack for picking out sad stories. I never knew how sad the stories of Hamlet, Les Miserables, or...anything written by Edgar Allen Poe could be until I came to the camp and plunged myself so deep into books that no one took notice of me for almost a whole year! Eesh, that sounded depressing, but you get my point. I do like to sing though. Its one of my favorite hobbies. My Papa used to say before he died that I had the voice of an angel just like my mother...I didn't realize how important that was until much later but now that I know my heritage, I take much pride in that comment and sing whenever I start to feel a little too low.

I ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ
☆ Sad movies
☆ Sad songs
☆ Singing
☆ Comfort food
☆ Stories of unrequited love
☆ Snuggly blankets
☆ Small and fuzzy stray animals
☆ The Underdog

Bᴜᴛ I'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ʙʏ
☆ Bad or sad things happening to my friends
☆ Bullies and meanies! They just make me so...so...SO SAD!!!
☆ Being separated from loved ones
☆ Unrequited feelings
☆ Broken hearts

Hᴏɴᴇsᴛʟʏ, I'ᴍ ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ ᴏғ
☆ Being separated for long periods from those I care about (abandonment)
☆ Falling in love and having my heart broken
☆ Losing a friend or a relative
☆ Fighting, war, famine, plague, drought, pestilence, murder and just about anything else incredibly tragic.

Iғ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪsʜ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ
☆

Bʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴘᴄᴏʀɴ, 'ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴍʏ ʟɪғᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ

☆ Like most demigods around here, I grew up not ever really knowing one of my parents - my mother to be more exact. Tragic, I know, but that was only just the beginning. Ironically, I was born on a Friday the Thirteenth, one of the most unlucky days of the entire year. As a baby, I was small, fragile and rather sickly. Until I was nearly six months old, doctors all seemed to fear for my health and ability to mature like a normal child. As I said, I never knew my mother and was instead raised by my father who secretly harbored a life-threatening sickness of his own that I would not come to terms with until much later in my life. He had cancer, you see...and not a whole lot of time to live because of it. The earliest years of my life were spent in and out of hospitals either for myself or for him as either of us always seemed to decline in health at any given point and by the time I was three, my beloved Papa had taken a turn for the worst. He had undergone numerous treatments with no sign of improvement and for the next year of my life, I practically lived in a hospital. Some days he seemed better and I actually had hope that we would walk out of that place soon to return home and be together like we always had been, two sick little birds looking out for one another and completely inseparable... but then he'd get worse...much worse and I feared that the end was very near. The doctors had given him three months at best but I forbade him to leave me...he died a year later in the hospitals when I was four years old. Broken-hearted and alone...I watched the doctors cover his lifeless body knowing that I would never again see his smile or hear his laugh and it filled my heart with a grief I have never forgotten to this day.

☆ I was placed in an orphanage for girls after that and looked after a hefty lump of a woman whom all the girls knew simply as "Matron". She liked everything to be clean - very, very clean and though I can never say I cared for her much, there was one particular girl there whom I became good friends with. Her name was Lula Mae Lynn and she was a stringy-haired, thin-framed little creature with big brown eyes as huge as dinner plates. One of the smallest girls in the whole home, she was often picked on and bullied by the other larger, nastier girls but little Lula never complained. She always stayed optimistic and bright eyed no matter what sort of disaster came her way. She was a beacon of hope and inspiration for me as a young girl but all of that came to an unfortunate end when I learned that a couple had requested to adopt me and I was taken from the home, far away from little Lula. I never saw her again.

☆ I arrived at the home of Mr. Robbert and Mrs. Anne D'calle, lawyer and interior designer of a very upper class community, at the young age of six years old. They were wealthy people from a long line of other wealthy people and I, the humble and modest child that I was, had a very difficult time adapting to their high expectations and just as high maintenance sort of lifestyle. They also had a son. His name was Calvin though he preferred to be called just "Cal". He was a fat, pink-faced bully who never took to me much but, truth be told I don't think that I had ever lived up to their hopes of me. It never mattered though for a year and a half later, they were both arrested on drunken driving charges and sent off to prison. Cal was shipped off to live with his aunt and uncle in France and I was back in the foster care system to search for more suitable parents, but this time...I didn't have Lula Lynn to ease the distress.

☆ When I was ten, I was adopted a second time by an old, evil woman who smelled like cabbage and had enough cats to drive me absolutely crazy. She was a prudish, vulture of a woman who often used me as her own personal maid service and kept me shut away in a small, dusty old room that smelled like moth balls. Little did I realize at my very young age that the old hoot had taken out a life insurance policy on my head, shortly after my adoption with the intention of murdering me with poison and collecting a small sum of money. When I learned of this nefarious plot, I ran away to the streets where I lived for almost a year, begging, borrowing and very occasionally stealing to stay alive. I must have looked like a truly pitiful sight for I brought more tears to passing strangers eyes than I ever thought possible. I guess I just had a knack for making people tear up. Regardless...it wasn't long before the things found me. I was easy prey for them out there on my own. They often chased me...hunted me...I spent many nights cowering in a corner in fear of what they'd do to me if they caught me off guard. That's when I found Mogi. Mogi was a street dog and one of my best friends. He seemed to sympathize, to understand and he was the best guard dog I think I've ever seen. It was almost like he could sense the creatures when they got near. He served as my warning signal whenever the beasts started closing in. Finally I had a friend again...someone I could trust. After my dad and Lula, I wondered if I'd ever have a companion again but Mogi and I were like two musketeers!....Until one terrible day when creatures chased us out into a busy street. We dodged the cars as best we could but I miscalculated. An oncoming truck made me freeze like a deer in a hunter's scope. Mogi pushed me out of the way...he saved my life...and in turn, sacrificed his own. He never made it across the street.......Mogi was a good dog.....

☆ I don't remember how long it was after Mogi's death that they found me. Cold, hungry and all on my own, they told me about a place where kids like me went when they had no where else to belong. They told me all about the camp and the demigods and...even my mom...I didn't believe them at first. I thought they were just another crazy person trying to trick me but then they gave me something that I just...couldn't explain in any words other than magic...They said it was a gift from my mother and that she wanted me to come with them. I must have been too out of it for my own good because I agreed and that's how I found my way here to Camp Half Blood...I've been here ever since, learning all sorts of things every day but best of all I'm surrounded by others like me...So I'm never lonely anymore.