Post by pretendtofly on Jan 10, 2009 13:06:33 GMT 10
[/size]`Lila Rose Dawson !!!
Whimiscal, Reckless & Charming.
Name: Lila Rose Dawson
Nickname(s): Call her Lil, call her Lila, call her Dawson, call her anything but ordinary.
Major: Writing
Age: Nineteen
Grade: Sophomore
Birthdate: April 8th, 1989
Orientation: Straight
Location: Columbia, Maryland.
`Appearance ,,
At first glance, with her disheveled dark blonde hair, mischievous blue green eyes outlined generously in black kohl, and thrift store dresses of lace and chiffon, Lila Rose strikes you as quite the little doe-eyed tearaway. And, in all honesty, that’s what she is. She stands at nearly 5’11, quite a staggering height for any girl, and a stiff breeze could blow the fragile girl over. With limbs resembling twigs and the outline of her ones clearly protruding beneath layers of rather disheveled clothing, it is clear that she is somewhat undernourished. Although her underweight figure might come across as painful thinness more than anything else, her face is certainly charming. She can capture the attention of most males with a flicker of her smoky black lashes or a flash of her impish smile. Lila Rose adores sifting through the clothing racks of vintage stores for treasures that are unique to her style, which is eclectic and quirky. She has a penchant for little-matchstick-girl frocks, bohemian headbands, mary-jane shoes and lace. She tends to wear the kind of clothes that hang off her bony frame in a distinctly heroin-chic manner but make her look feminine and floaty all the same. When it comes to make-up, she adores eyeliner to make her milky blue eyes seem even more penetrating. However, Lila Rose often looks drawn and pale, a result of too many sleepless nights spent at her typewriter or on a dance floor.
At first glance, with her disheveled dark blonde hair, mischievous blue green eyes outlined generously in black kohl, and thrift store dresses of lace and chiffon, Lila Rose strikes you as quite the little doe-eyed tearaway. And, in all honesty, that’s what she is. She stands at nearly 5’11, quite a staggering height for any girl, and a stiff breeze could blow the fragile girl over. With limbs resembling twigs and the outline of her ones clearly protruding beneath layers of rather disheveled clothing, it is clear that she is somewhat undernourished. Although her underweight figure might come across as painful thinness more than anything else, her face is certainly charming. She can capture the attention of most males with a flicker of her smoky black lashes or a flash of her impish smile. Lila Rose adores sifting through the clothing racks of vintage stores for treasures that are unique to her style, which is eclectic and quirky. She has a penchant for little-matchstick-girl frocks, bohemian headbands, mary-jane shoes and lace. She tends to wear the kind of clothes that hang off her bony frame in a distinctly heroin-chic manner but make her look feminine and floaty all the same. When it comes to make-up, she adores eyeliner to make her milky blue eyes seem even more penetrating. However, Lila Rose often looks drawn and pale, a result of too many sleepless nights spent at her typewriter or on a dance floor.
Best Feature: “I’d probably have to say my smile. I spent all of junior high with the most heinous braces on my teeth, and I swore that as soon as they came off and my smile was perfect, I wouldn’t stop showing it off. I smile a lot, so it helps that I have good teeth now. And as far as I know, my smile is my greatest weapon. It can get me my way quite often.”
Worst Feature: “I wouldn’t get me started if I were you. People think I have tons of body confidence, but that only means they believe what I project, which is a false sense of self-assurance. I don’t particularly like the way that I look. I’m my own worst critic and always thinking about things I wish I could change. People say I’m skinny- way too skinny, in fact- but I simply can’t see what they see. Being so tall makes me feel awkward sometimes, and it also means I have big feet. I hate my feet. They look like they belong on a clown.”[/size]
`Personality ,,
Whimsical
1: full of, actuated by, or exhibiting whims
2 a: resulting from or characterized by whim or caprice ; especially : lightly fanciful
b: subject to erratic behavior or unpredictable change.
Imagination is what drives Lila Rose in everyday life- it is what has always driven her. She is a dreamer, and often completely out of touch with reality. If she leapt out of a window unexpectedly one day, it would most likely be because she thought she could fly. She's a whimsical girl, living life from one fanciful endeavor to the next. She's never been the predictable type or one to live up to expectations. Sometimes she can be contrary just because it keeps people guessing, but mostly because her mind often changes, leaping from one thing to the next in mere moments. When she was a child, she'd exclaim that she wanted to be a princess, a doctor, a ballerina, a farmer, a fairy, the milkman, a teacher, a dentist. And it wasn't that she meant to change direction so often, but she honestly felt such passion for each and every dream in the moment it struck her. It's the same with her relationships. Looking back on past relationships, she can find herself wondering why she ever got involved in the first place. Perhaps it was her reckless abandonment, perhaps it was her high libido, perhaps it was a yearning to be loved: or perhaps she really did love that person at the time with all her heart, only to realize sometimes just days later that it was all wrong and she needed to move on. Lila Rose behaves in ways that are impossible to predict. It means she's incredibly fun and utterly charismatic, although not the most dependable of people. Her eccentricities and quirks make her who she is. Whether it's reflected in her dress sense, her humor, her behavior or her decisions, she's endearingly different.
Reckless
1 : marked by lack of proper caution : careless of consequences
2 : irresponsible.
Even though her carefree nature might in many respects make her good company or the life and soul of the party, it is a dangerous part of her personality. If you're an overly cautious person and it restricts your lifestyle, throwing caution to the wind might seem like something you wish you could do, therefore you might envy Lila Rose her ability to act without any regard for the consequences of those actions. However, people are cautious for a reason. They wish to stay out of trouble, to avoid dangerous situations, to keep themselves unharmed and respect their own integrity. Conversely, Lila Rose throws herself into these dangerous situations. She has no respect for her physical integrity or that she might need to take care of herself. Whether it's copious amounts of alcohol or drugs, too little food, promiscuity or perilous exploits in the name of fun, she doesn't stop to think about what could happen and doesn't really care. This means she is irresponsible and shouldn't be allowed to take the steering wheel of her own life, because chances are she'll drive too fast and end up careering off a bridge. The mantra 'live fast, die young' definitely apply to the crazy individual. She doesn't do things by half measures and definitely doesn't know her limits. An 'extremist' is the perfect way to describe her- be it a choice between cotton candy and caviar, she won't settle for the gray area in between and has to go all the way. Unfortunately, although these reckless habits may be entertaining in the short term, she is incapable of caring for herself and makes self-destructive choices every day that might do permanent damage. Lila Rose is a troubled girl, plagued by secret insecurities and memories she rarely dredges up and finds it difficult to face, so these erratic behaviors are used as a coping mechanism. A song lyric that applies to Lila has to be Bright Eyes' "we might die from medication but we sure killed all the pain."
Charming
1. extremely pleasing or delightful : entrancing.
It's easy for Lila Rose to win you over, despite all her many shortcomings. Even though she looks a bit like a waif with her dark eyes, unkempt appearance, wry impish smile and the general mess she's often in, people are drawn to her. She can capture the attention of most people with little effort, even if it's for the wrong reasons. Her natural friendly openness makes her attractive to others and she has the potential to be a close companion, which is one of her charming qualities. Perhaps what is so enrapturing about the girl is the mystery that surrounds her. What's going on inside her head? Why do you see her smiling and chatting with the professors in class during the day then flying on cocaine with a cigarette in her mouth on a dark street at nighttime? She doesn't let on a lot, but her stories show that there is a myriad of thoughts and feelings within her that she has not explained, and probably will not. Floating through life from one revel to another, living a truly hedonistic lifestyle, she is somewhat of an enigma. Who actually knows the real Lila Rose?
Whimsical
1: full of, actuated by, or exhibiting whims
2 a: resulting from or characterized by whim or caprice ; especially : lightly fanciful
b: subject to erratic behavior or unpredictable change.
Imagination is what drives Lila Rose in everyday life- it is what has always driven her. She is a dreamer, and often completely out of touch with reality. If she leapt out of a window unexpectedly one day, it would most likely be because she thought she could fly. She's a whimsical girl, living life from one fanciful endeavor to the next. She's never been the predictable type or one to live up to expectations. Sometimes she can be contrary just because it keeps people guessing, but mostly because her mind often changes, leaping from one thing to the next in mere moments. When she was a child, she'd exclaim that she wanted to be a princess, a doctor, a ballerina, a farmer, a fairy, the milkman, a teacher, a dentist. And it wasn't that she meant to change direction so often, but she honestly felt such passion for each and every dream in the moment it struck her. It's the same with her relationships. Looking back on past relationships, she can find herself wondering why she ever got involved in the first place. Perhaps it was her reckless abandonment, perhaps it was her high libido, perhaps it was a yearning to be loved: or perhaps she really did love that person at the time with all her heart, only to realize sometimes just days later that it was all wrong and she needed to move on. Lila Rose behaves in ways that are impossible to predict. It means she's incredibly fun and utterly charismatic, although not the most dependable of people. Her eccentricities and quirks make her who she is. Whether it's reflected in her dress sense, her humor, her behavior or her decisions, she's endearingly different.
Reckless
1 : marked by lack of proper caution : careless of consequences
2 : irresponsible.
Even though her carefree nature might in many respects make her good company or the life and soul of the party, it is a dangerous part of her personality. If you're an overly cautious person and it restricts your lifestyle, throwing caution to the wind might seem like something you wish you could do, therefore you might envy Lila Rose her ability to act without any regard for the consequences of those actions. However, people are cautious for a reason. They wish to stay out of trouble, to avoid dangerous situations, to keep themselves unharmed and respect their own integrity. Conversely, Lila Rose throws herself into these dangerous situations. She has no respect for her physical integrity or that she might need to take care of herself. Whether it's copious amounts of alcohol or drugs, too little food, promiscuity or perilous exploits in the name of fun, she doesn't stop to think about what could happen and doesn't really care. This means she is irresponsible and shouldn't be allowed to take the steering wheel of her own life, because chances are she'll drive too fast and end up careering off a bridge. The mantra 'live fast, die young' definitely apply to the crazy individual. She doesn't do things by half measures and definitely doesn't know her limits. An 'extremist' is the perfect way to describe her- be it a choice between cotton candy and caviar, she won't settle for the gray area in between and has to go all the way. Unfortunately, although these reckless habits may be entertaining in the short term, she is incapable of caring for herself and makes self-destructive choices every day that might do permanent damage. Lila Rose is a troubled girl, plagued by secret insecurities and memories she rarely dredges up and finds it difficult to face, so these erratic behaviors are used as a coping mechanism. A song lyric that applies to Lila has to be Bright Eyes' "we might die from medication but we sure killed all the pain."
Charming
1. extremely pleasing or delightful : entrancing.
It's easy for Lila Rose to win you over, despite all her many shortcomings. Even though she looks a bit like a waif with her dark eyes, unkempt appearance, wry impish smile and the general mess she's often in, people are drawn to her. She can capture the attention of most people with little effort, even if it's for the wrong reasons. Her natural friendly openness makes her attractive to others and she has the potential to be a close companion, which is one of her charming qualities. Perhaps what is so enrapturing about the girl is the mystery that surrounds her. What's going on inside her head? Why do you see her smiling and chatting with the professors in class during the day then flying on cocaine with a cigarette in her mouth on a dark street at nighttime? She doesn't let on a lot, but her stories show that there is a myriad of thoughts and feelings within her that she has not explained, and probably will not. Floating through life from one revel to another, living a truly hedonistic lifestyle, she is somewhat of an enigma. Who actually knows the real Lila Rose?
Likes:
Chivalry
Literature
Square-rimmed glasses
Cigarettes
Red lipstick
Photography
Non-fat yogurt
One day to drink and one to recover
Typewriters
Pharmaceuticals
Mittens
All-nighters
Jefferson Airplane
Caffeine
Cocaine
Patisserie windows
Listening to people's life stories
Champagne
Sunsets
Epiphanies
Bathtubs
Sylvia Plath
Black kohl
House parties
Strawberries
Scribbling in notebooks
Alcohol-induced confidence
Emptiness
Joanna Newsom
Trilby hats
Dance floors
Tequila shots
Moments of solitude
Chemical highs
Edie Sedgwick
Boys in glasses
Sex
Thrift stores
The Beat Generation
Alice in Wonderland
Lace
Anarchy
Dislikes:
nothing to wear
Pretentiousness
War
Her thighs
Dripping taps
Small spaces
Running out of cigarettes
Vanity
The shakes
People who mindlessly follow the crowd
Loneliness
Feeling full
Scales
Lack of imagination
Those who try to impose their religious beliefs on others
Cravings
Gossip rags
Rumors
Hangovers
Posers
People who change their voice when they say something important
Teeny boppers
Bullies
Closed-mindedness
Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, and bands of that genre
Discrimination
Bible-bashers
Reality television
Dead flowers
Homophobes
Ugg boots
Paris Hilton
Feeling lost
Writers block
Positive Traits:
Compassionate & Friendly: Lila Rose is an incredibly kind soul. Even though she can be a little fickle, this only stems from some deep-seated issues she has with trust and opening up to people. But she has a heart of pure gold, not to mention the ability to make you smile no matter what you're going through. She'll endeavor to do whatever you can to cheer you up if needs be- whether it's bringing you a cup of your favorite coffee from Starbucks, picking some flowers and arranging them in a jam jar for your windowsill, or writing you a humorous haiku to induce some laughter and light-heartedness. As a friend, she's fiercely loyal. She can stand up for herself and even more so for others. She'll never allow someone to dismiss or degrade a person she cares about. Furthermore, she's reliable- not in the sense that she's punctual or dependable, but just that she can keep a secret and is one of the most trustworthy people you'll ever meet. Initially, when meeting her, she comes across as open, confident, chatty and amicable. But she won't open up to you immediately. It takes time to become a close friend of hers but it's most definitely worth it. However, conversing with her is easy. Her natural charisma and friendliness make that possible.
Creative & Intelligent: It's obvious that the girl has a creative streak, as she's at a college for the arts. Her writing skills and style have developed over the years, and she has a natural talent for capturing atmospheres, personalities, emotions and aspects of true life with a unique flair. It's never surprising when she whips out her notebook to jot down some observations or feelings. That little book rarely leaves her person. Her most treasured possession has to be her vintage typewriter which she uses for short stories. She has placed it on a table at her window overlooking the city- certainly an inspiring spot- and can sit at it for hours, all night, with her fingers rattling across the keyboard, spilling her heart out onto blank paper. These pages all end up in a little bundle tied with packaging string in a box under her bed. Writing can be a personal thing for her, but many of her pieces are submitted to professors as part of her major. Even though she usually receives high praise for her work, sometimes they find it a little abstract. "Come back down, Lila Rose," they'll scrawl on her work, "You've gone too far with this one." But writing isn't the only way she expresses her creative vision. For years she has been avid about photography and can develop her own photographs in a darkroom. She finds it a perfect place to think and collect herself. Mostly, she finds people hold the most inspiration for her, so she prefers portraits, but her manual Olympus camera follows her around most anywhere, leaving the way open to capture places or objects that strike her as being part of a moment she wants to save. Even though she's never considered photography any more than a hobby, she's dedicated to it.
Her love of writing comes hand in hand with her love of literature. Her favorite authors include Sylvia Plath, Jack Kerouac, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Hubert Selby Jnr, Augusten Burroughs and Hunter S Thompson. She can spend hours browsing a bookstore or library, her most frequent haunts. Even though she's considered by many to be a party girl and an extrovert, she can also be very introverted and enjoy spending time alone with a good novel. Even though she's never been very successful in core subjects of the school curriculum- really because she was a wild card in her high school years and was always daydreaming her way through classes- she's an intelligent girl.
Witty & Carefree: This intelligence comes with a sharp-tongue and quick wit. She's quite sarcastic and has an air of dry cynicism about her. The girl can easily have people in hysterics with a few well-delivered quips. On the other hand, she isn't a cynical person, so what's hidden in her heart isn't quite what matches up to how she presents herself. Even though she comes across to the casual observer as a nonchalant, wry cynic, she's secretly quite idealistic and sensitive. Being able to slip into different personalities and points of view help a lot with her writing. She also comes across as very carefree, and to an extent she is. She knows what's important to her- writing, friendship, and seizing the day. Other things seem only to take up valuable time that she could be spending living life to the fullest and breathing in every experience she can. She always wants to try new things- whether it's new hobbies, meeting new people, trying new foods, new drugs, new ways to chase up some fleeting high- and throws caution to the wind. This can be a very bad thing, which we will come to later. However, she is usually laid-back and ready to always have a good time, which makes her fun to be around.
Passionate & Strong-willed: Lila Rose has opinions and she sticks to them. She doesn't sit on the proverbial fence. She doesn't censor her views. She doesn't tolerate closed-mindedness or bigotry of any kind. It's easy to get into a heated debate with Lila. She doesn't let things turn ugly because to her, arguments driven by passion are a way of life, and don't have to lead to a falling out. Her natural stubbornness means it's hard for her to back down, although she tries hard to see other people's views. But there is nothing that annoys Lila more than those who try and shove their views down the throats of others. In life, she's very hard-headed and ambitious. She always dreamed of writing and getting into one of the best schools to indulge her passion, and even though her family wanted her to go in other vocational directions, she knew what she wanted. Most things she wants, she gets, but luckily she's never been materialistically demanding. She's just driven and can get a little perfectionistic when it comes to work and getting praise for what she loves. She likes to feel as though her efforts are valued too.
Negative Traits: (list and explain at least three)
Reckless & Compulsive: Lila Rose is an easily addicted person. If she tries something once that appeals to her- particularly to her sense of fun and thirst for new highs, chemical or otherwise- she'll become instantly addicted to it, and need to have it again. This is one explanation for why she has fallen so deeply into ritualistic behavior surrounding food and illicit substances. She finds habits impossibly hard to break, and is very compulsive. If something is bothering her, it will not leave her alone. She'll become utterly obsessed by it- be it a piece of work that isn't quite perfect, a friendship that needs fixing, or a hair clinging to someone's shirt that simply must be picked off. It is a terrible trait to have because she cannot let things go, and usually she doesn't even try. As for her aforementioned recklessness, she lives a dangerous life. She doesn't think about consequences before she acts and does impulsive things without considering what might happen to her or those around her. Her impulsive behavior is almost always damaging to herself, but she never seems to care. She'll do anything if it means living fast and enjoying herself. These unpredictable swings in her mood and actions mean that she can't take responsibility for herself, or for anything for that matter. She's unreliable and impetuous, often childish in her need for immediate gratification. In a manner quite petulant, Lila can't bear to be kept waiting for any rush. Though she can spend hours on a piece of writing in the pursuit of perfection, it's not the delay that she's doing it for- it's the obsession with utter flawlessness in her work.
Insecure & Self-Destructive: From a young age, Lila Rose has been troubled. She acted out against her family and it landed her in numerous therapist's offices, even a mental health clinic at one point in her adolescence. All her reckless behavior stems from hidden insecurities. Even though she might come across as confident and assured, this usually comes from intoxication, or a fear that her fraudulence will be revealed. She desperately doesn't want people to find out that she's not as tough as she makes out she is. She doesn't let people in easily, and opening up about experiences except in her writing don't come naturally.
Stubborn & Neurotic: Lila Rose has a neurotic side. As mentioned earlier, she's a perfectionist and that comes from all her many neuroses. People have called her a mess of nervous habits, or really just a mess in general. She bites her nails, smokes like a chimney, chews her lip or the end of her pen- she's never been one to relax that easily. In order to loosen up, she needs to get a drink in her, or listen to music at a party and let it carry her away onto the dance floor. Writing isn't exactly a calming experience for her, so she doesn't do it when she needs to wind down. It's more cathartic than it is calming. It is something that drains her, but because she can spend hours focusing on one tiny little flaw in her piece of work, it is hardly something she does when she needs a break from her neuroses. Lila is also a stubborn girl. In arguments, she finds it very hard to back down. It's not like she's on a high horse, but she often can't accept that her views are wrong, and she'll continue to fight and never consider the case to be closed. She absolutely hates closed-mindedness, arrogance, pretentiousness or discriminatory traits in people. Other things she can't tolerate are strongly right-wing views, fundamentalist bible-bashers, war, or mindless cruelty. She really should have been born in the hippie era because she would have been a peace and free love crusader. Lila is also obstinate in other areas of her life. She finds it hard to take no for an answer. She won't take orders from people and can be impatient and grumpy until she gets what she wants.
Troubled & Needy: All Lila Rose wants is to be loved. That might seem fairly normal and not so negative, but when it becomes a pathalogical fear of being alone, it becomes a detriment. Lila needs and craves the love and attention of others. She finds it hard to see herself as anything more than what people value her to be. She needs constant approval from people and reassurance that she is in fact passable, that she has some good features, that she is nice to have around and not boring or disliked. This insecurity can make her a tiresome sort of friend. Lila has a love-hate relationship with the spotlight. Even though she quite fears the scrutiny of other people and hates the thought of not living up to their expectations of her, she throws herself into the limelight and makes an exhibition of herself on a regular basis. Additionally, even though she can feel anxiety start to rise up in her throat when she knows that a man is leering at her, she is guilty of playing into it all, acting like a tease and batting her eyelashes, because she needs their attention. She also needs physical affection. Even if it's only for one night, Lila Rose desperately wants to be loved. She's stopped understanding the difference between lust and love, and she equates being loved with a casual fling, which leads her to promiscuity.
Greatest Ambition: To write a novel. As all her passion lies in her words, it makes sense that to write would be what she wants to do with her life, what she is driven towards. But most of all, she wants to write something with meaning. That can somehow change lives, even if it is only one life, in the smallest of ways. She wants her voice to be heard. She wants to show people certain things in a new light. She wants to challenge people, excite people, and make them face up to what is really inside them.
Greatest Fear: Being alone. Even though Lila Rose values solitude and having time to herself to gather her thoughts, she greatly fears loneliness. There is a difference between the kind of loneliness one makes for themselves to gain some peace and the kind of loneliness Lila is terrified of. As she often feels like doing nothing but curling up by herself and reading a book, or writing a story, or smoking on her window sill, it's not like she fears being alone. What she really is afraid of is encompassing loneliness, when you reach out for someone that isn't there, when you are simply unloved. The idea of being unloved is enough to make Lila Rose tremble in terror. Affection and being valued is important to her, so more than anything she fears a life without that love.
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`History ,,
Lila Rose has always been a wild card. Having come to Washington University with only a few dollars to her name and that certain je ne sais quoi derived from a combination of casual quirkiness and mischievous, youthful charm, she was little more than an unkempt tear-away. But her wry idealism got her far from the moment the she enrolled and began her new life. From her first tentative submissions for her writing class to the whirlwind of hedonism she has become a part of in the city, her story is an unpredictable one, and often a little debauched. But let’s start from the beginning, shall we?
Lila Rose Dawson was born into your quintessential WASP family, in Columbia, Maryland, one of the richest towns in the United States. Her family was made up of a range of cookie-cutter Republicans whom, as she grew up and began to question what she’d always been taught, she found to be increasingly oppressive. Religious, closed-minded, yet completely unaware of their lack of tolerance towards anyone who deviated slightly from their right-wing norm, Christopher and Vanessa Dawson endeavored to raise the perfect child. At first, their life looked set to be just as clean-cut as they wanted it to be. Their first-born daughter Lila Rose was beautiful, blessed with a keen intellect and a passion for the arts observable even from a young age. As she progressed through her childhood years, she participated- at her parents’ request- in a range of extra-curricular activities, from cheerleading to debating. Her younger sister, Chloe, eagerly followed suit, treading in those footsteps in order to keep the polished white smiles stagnant on the faces of two ever-proud parents. When Lila got to junior high, she was one of the top in her class, and looking to fulfill all her family’s dreams of flawlessness. However, all was not well in paradise.
It would be utterly naïve to assume that this family was perfect. In fact, the more they pushed towards perfection, the more the cracks were beginning to show. Christopher worked long hours, and when he came home he sat at the dinner table, surly and miserable, a large fist curled around his crystal glass of whiskey. He sat up late in his study, puffing on Cuban cigars, dreaming about a life of real fulfillment he could have had, free of his stressful job and his endlessly demanding wife. Vanessa was forlorn too. An ex-model, she was struggling in vain to come to terms with the loss of her looks and her youth. She tried to live vicariously through her children, pushing them towards the perfection she no longer felt was within her grasp. The marriage was cold and practiced. Every welcome-home-darling kiss, every how-was-your-day pat on the head- it was a ritual that was wearing thin as it repeated itself day after day. Children aren’t totally oblivious to difficult home situations and loveless marriages. Actually, they can often be the most perceptive observers. Lila Rose knew as she grew up that her parents were not in love, that it was all a lie, and that she was beginning to resent the people living under that suffocating roof. When she was sixteen, Lila Rose had a traumatizing experience. She was forced into sexual intercourse with her football-player boyfriend. Much stronger than her, he refused to take no for an answer when it came to the loss of her virginity. After that, things began to spiral downwards. She was wracked with guilt and shame about what had happened. She felt dirty and anxious all the time. Shaken-up and terrified, she would spend hours in the shower scrubbing at her skin, trying to wash away the memories of that event, but they wouldn't leave her, and the more she repressed them, the more then began to manifest themselves in her life, in the form of panic attacks, flashbacks and an inability to function as the girl she once was. Finally, she hardened up her exterior, trying to act like nothing bothered her. It was a quick alteration, but appeared to be the only way in which she could cope.
Her descent into madness happened rather rapidly. It seemed as though one day she were starting junior high, books clasped to her proud chest, socks pulled up and hair neatly braided, bearing an impish smile full of promise, and the next she was flying on speed, dark-eyed and drunk, taking a large pair of kitchen scissors to her cheerleading uniform. The seemingly cheerful pre-teen changed almost overnight. As she'd grown up, she'd grown taller, until she towered to only a few inches smaller than her 6 foot 1 father. She stopped participating in all the activities her parents had demanded of her. She stopped going to church and declared herself an atheist. She became everything her family had prayed she wouldn’t be, and she relished it. No, she didn’t become a Satanist or start wearing dog collars or listening to heavy metal in her room. But she did become withdrawn and disappeared into her books, disconnecting herself completely from the world around her and descending into an alternate reality. She wrote constantly in a little notebook that rarely left her person. She started losing herself in writing, photography, reading and other such creative exploits.
The dining table became a war zone. Lila Rose began to use her eating habits as another protest against her family and her body- a body which she felt had betrayed her when she'd been assaulted. As her father sulked and glowered and her mother sat straight-backed and prim and her sister gabbed about cliques and parties, Lila cut her food up into tiny pieces and arranged them on her plate, pushing them about with the tines of her fork and rarely letting anything pass her lips. Her weight plummeted. She began to spend time with the loner-types in school who took drugs and didn’t give a damn, and she too started meddling in various chemical concoctions. Speed was her favorite- she could stay up all night at her typewriter, rattling off abstract stories and recording her addled thoughts on paper. Once a poster girl for abstinence, she became promiscuous and reckless, losing all sense of physical integrity and throwing her body about like a used coat. It wasn't as though she enjoyed sex for the pleasurable feeling. In fact, she often felt scared and guilty afterwards. But she closed herself off from it, doing whatever she could to feel loved even for a short moment. Soon, she was a shadow of the girl she once was. Tall, emaciated, with a lost expression in her eyes, and an ache to get away from the home that she hated. Her parents ran through several theories: was it a phase, was she possessed, should they have an exorcism performed? Eventually a psychiatrist came up with an answer: she was anorexic and suffering from post-traumatic stress of some kind. A few months later, Lila was packed up and sent to a mental health clinic to have some weight put back on her bones.
The moment she was discharged was the moment she knew she had to form a plan to leave town. It had always been expected that she’d either stay in Maryland for university or shoot for the stars somewhere highly academic like Harvard, Yale or Brown. But Lila Rose know that if there was an opportunity to get out of the world she was in and experience real life, a place filled with people who didn’t judge others or ram their beliefs down the throats of those around them, she had to take it. She wanted to go somewhere where perfection was universally known as being unreachable, but imperfections were embraced as what made people original and embraced by culture. The moment Lila Rose discovered a brochure for Washington University of the Arts- a school where she could indulge her passion for writing all day every day and feel as though she were actually doing good from it- she knew she had to get in.
And get in she did. When she first became a student, there was a lot left to be desired. She had spent so long rebelling against her parents that she didn’t quite know how to structure her crazed life anymore. But she absolutely loved it from the beginning of her first class. She knew she was now in a place that would accept her for who she was. Her writing was praised and criticized but she could take anything as long as she was writing. She adored her professors, she made close friends, she got good grades and for once she felt like she was worth something more than what her parents told her she was, or what she could do to simply aggravate them. None of that was important now. Furthermore, Lila became a regular on the university party scene. She continued with her reckless ways now she was away from home with supposedly no responsibilities and no strings to hold her down, as it were.
However, on the dark side she continued to struggle with personal issues- troubles she’d had with eating, anxiety and drug abuse came back to haunt her. Without anyone or anything controlling her, she found she was unable to take care of herself. She began living off a diet of sugar free sodas, the occasional rice cake, booze and drugs. In order to stave off the insecurities that had been trailing around with her like a shadow since her early adolescence she began to obsess about her weight again. Counting calories, pushing food around, cutting it up and arranging it- the rituals started to return, and stronger than ever, but she does not see it as a cause for concern even though others do. In fact, no matter how bad things got with drugs, drink, or dieting, she could always assure herself that it was normal.
So Lila Rose continues to work and live, trying to balance the two. Despite her troubles and reckless existence, she is a charismatic amicable girl who is popular among males and females alike. Her passion for writing and pursuing new highs and novel experiences is what drives her. She dreams of writing a novel someday. She also dreams of falling in love. She dreams and dreams because that’s what she’s always done. In all, she loves Washington and everything university brings, even if those things aren’t good for her.
Lila Rose has always been a wild card. Having come to Washington University with only a few dollars to her name and that certain je ne sais quoi derived from a combination of casual quirkiness and mischievous, youthful charm, she was little more than an unkempt tear-away. But her wry idealism got her far from the moment the she enrolled and began her new life. From her first tentative submissions for her writing class to the whirlwind of hedonism she has become a part of in the city, her story is an unpredictable one, and often a little debauched. But let’s start from the beginning, shall we?
Lila Rose Dawson was born into your quintessential WASP family, in Columbia, Maryland, one of the richest towns in the United States. Her family was made up of a range of cookie-cutter Republicans whom, as she grew up and began to question what she’d always been taught, she found to be increasingly oppressive. Religious, closed-minded, yet completely unaware of their lack of tolerance towards anyone who deviated slightly from their right-wing norm, Christopher and Vanessa Dawson endeavored to raise the perfect child. At first, their life looked set to be just as clean-cut as they wanted it to be. Their first-born daughter Lila Rose was beautiful, blessed with a keen intellect and a passion for the arts observable even from a young age. As she progressed through her childhood years, she participated- at her parents’ request- in a range of extra-curricular activities, from cheerleading to debating. Her younger sister, Chloe, eagerly followed suit, treading in those footsteps in order to keep the polished white smiles stagnant on the faces of two ever-proud parents. When Lila got to junior high, she was one of the top in her class, and looking to fulfill all her family’s dreams of flawlessness. However, all was not well in paradise.
It would be utterly naïve to assume that this family was perfect. In fact, the more they pushed towards perfection, the more the cracks were beginning to show. Christopher worked long hours, and when he came home he sat at the dinner table, surly and miserable, a large fist curled around his crystal glass of whiskey. He sat up late in his study, puffing on Cuban cigars, dreaming about a life of real fulfillment he could have had, free of his stressful job and his endlessly demanding wife. Vanessa was forlorn too. An ex-model, she was struggling in vain to come to terms with the loss of her looks and her youth. She tried to live vicariously through her children, pushing them towards the perfection she no longer felt was within her grasp. The marriage was cold and practiced. Every welcome-home-darling kiss, every how-was-your-day pat on the head- it was a ritual that was wearing thin as it repeated itself day after day. Children aren’t totally oblivious to difficult home situations and loveless marriages. Actually, they can often be the most perceptive observers. Lila Rose knew as she grew up that her parents were not in love, that it was all a lie, and that she was beginning to resent the people living under that suffocating roof. When she was sixteen, Lila Rose had a traumatizing experience. She was forced into sexual intercourse with her football-player boyfriend. Much stronger than her, he refused to take no for an answer when it came to the loss of her virginity. After that, things began to spiral downwards. She was wracked with guilt and shame about what had happened. She felt dirty and anxious all the time. Shaken-up and terrified, she would spend hours in the shower scrubbing at her skin, trying to wash away the memories of that event, but they wouldn't leave her, and the more she repressed them, the more then began to manifest themselves in her life, in the form of panic attacks, flashbacks and an inability to function as the girl she once was. Finally, she hardened up her exterior, trying to act like nothing bothered her. It was a quick alteration, but appeared to be the only way in which she could cope.
Her descent into madness happened rather rapidly. It seemed as though one day she were starting junior high, books clasped to her proud chest, socks pulled up and hair neatly braided, bearing an impish smile full of promise, and the next she was flying on speed, dark-eyed and drunk, taking a large pair of kitchen scissors to her cheerleading uniform. The seemingly cheerful pre-teen changed almost overnight. As she'd grown up, she'd grown taller, until she towered to only a few inches smaller than her 6 foot 1 father. She stopped participating in all the activities her parents had demanded of her. She stopped going to church and declared herself an atheist. She became everything her family had prayed she wouldn’t be, and she relished it. No, she didn’t become a Satanist or start wearing dog collars or listening to heavy metal in her room. But she did become withdrawn and disappeared into her books, disconnecting herself completely from the world around her and descending into an alternate reality. She wrote constantly in a little notebook that rarely left her person. She started losing herself in writing, photography, reading and other such creative exploits.
The dining table became a war zone. Lila Rose began to use her eating habits as another protest against her family and her body- a body which she felt had betrayed her when she'd been assaulted. As her father sulked and glowered and her mother sat straight-backed and prim and her sister gabbed about cliques and parties, Lila cut her food up into tiny pieces and arranged them on her plate, pushing them about with the tines of her fork and rarely letting anything pass her lips. Her weight plummeted. She began to spend time with the loner-types in school who took drugs and didn’t give a damn, and she too started meddling in various chemical concoctions. Speed was her favorite- she could stay up all night at her typewriter, rattling off abstract stories and recording her addled thoughts on paper. Once a poster girl for abstinence, she became promiscuous and reckless, losing all sense of physical integrity and throwing her body about like a used coat. It wasn't as though she enjoyed sex for the pleasurable feeling. In fact, she often felt scared and guilty afterwards. But she closed herself off from it, doing whatever she could to feel loved even for a short moment. Soon, she was a shadow of the girl she once was. Tall, emaciated, with a lost expression in her eyes, and an ache to get away from the home that she hated. Her parents ran through several theories: was it a phase, was she possessed, should they have an exorcism performed? Eventually a psychiatrist came up with an answer: she was anorexic and suffering from post-traumatic stress of some kind. A few months later, Lila was packed up and sent to a mental health clinic to have some weight put back on her bones.
The moment she was discharged was the moment she knew she had to form a plan to leave town. It had always been expected that she’d either stay in Maryland for university or shoot for the stars somewhere highly academic like Harvard, Yale or Brown. But Lila Rose know that if there was an opportunity to get out of the world she was in and experience real life, a place filled with people who didn’t judge others or ram their beliefs down the throats of those around them, she had to take it. She wanted to go somewhere where perfection was universally known as being unreachable, but imperfections were embraced as what made people original and embraced by culture. The moment Lila Rose discovered a brochure for Washington University of the Arts- a school where she could indulge her passion for writing all day every day and feel as though she were actually doing good from it- she knew she had to get in.
And get in she did. When she first became a student, there was a lot left to be desired. She had spent so long rebelling against her parents that she didn’t quite know how to structure her crazed life anymore. But she absolutely loved it from the beginning of her first class. She knew she was now in a place that would accept her for who she was. Her writing was praised and criticized but she could take anything as long as she was writing. She adored her professors, she made close friends, she got good grades and for once she felt like she was worth something more than what her parents told her she was, or what she could do to simply aggravate them. None of that was important now. Furthermore, Lila became a regular on the university party scene. She continued with her reckless ways now she was away from home with supposedly no responsibilities and no strings to hold her down, as it were.
However, on the dark side she continued to struggle with personal issues- troubles she’d had with eating, anxiety and drug abuse came back to haunt her. Without anyone or anything controlling her, she found she was unable to take care of herself. She began living off a diet of sugar free sodas, the occasional rice cake, booze and drugs. In order to stave off the insecurities that had been trailing around with her like a shadow since her early adolescence she began to obsess about her weight again. Counting calories, pushing food around, cutting it up and arranging it- the rituals started to return, and stronger than ever, but she does not see it as a cause for concern even though others do. In fact, no matter how bad things got with drugs, drink, or dieting, she could always assure herself that it was normal.
So Lila Rose continues to work and live, trying to balance the two. Despite her troubles and reckless existence, she is a charismatic amicable girl who is popular among males and females alike. Her passion for writing and pursuing new highs and novel experiences is what drives her. She dreams of writing a novel someday. She also dreams of falling in love. She dreams and dreams because that’s what she’s always done. In all, she loves Washington and everything university brings, even if those things aren’t good for her.
Best Memory: "I think it was the day I got my first assignment back from my professor. The initial week of university had been frightening. Frightening but wonderful. It was all so new to me but I was in heaven. I remember just walking around the campus, taking it all in- all the different people, all the buildings, and the whole atmosphere of ambition and creative vision. It was utterly and indescribably amazing. We'd been asked to write about what it meant to us. What writing meant, that is. I had simply poured my heart into that piece. When it was given back to me in our feedback class, the comment scrawled along the bottom was 'I'm glad you are here. This is the right place for you, Miss Dawson.' It was the kind of personal words and warmth I never got before, not even from my parents. Especially not from my parents. I wanted to cry with joy, right then and there, but I waited until I got back to my dorm. I lit a cigarette, crawled up onto my windowsill in nothing but an a-line dress and ripped tights, pulled my knees to my chest and let out the most blissful sigh along with a plume of smoke. I knew I had made it and I was home. It was hard not to cry, and I'd be lying if I said I managed to keep it together."
Worst Memory: "I was sixteen. It was nighttime. We were at a party. I'd just started to go off the rails a little I suppose, at least that's what my parents called it. It had been a while since I realized everything my family and my town and my school stood for was bull. I was the model student, I was in a relationship with a coveted jock boy, I had lots of friends, I should have been proud, right? But I couldn't have been more unhappy. The party was forced, as though a bunch of sixteen year olds had gathered together to throw what they thought a party should be. There was drink, though many people wouldn't touch it and only pretend to be intoxicated. There was loud music. There was carefully placed debris around the place, as though we all wanted to prove we could be rebellious and let our hair down. I'd been with this guy Jake for a few months and yeah, we were set to be voted best couple and win all those stupid awards that high schoolers think are so important. But I suppose, as a football player and popular boy, there were certain expectations on him. And there were on me too. On the outside I was supposed to portray myself as a proper, put-together Christian girl. But at the same time they wanted me to give it all away. It was a Madonna-whore complex and I was starting to see the hypocrisy of it all. I can't really go into great detail because I don't like dredging it up, and old wounds are best left unopened, right? Jake attacked me. There, I said it. I hate using the 'R' word because it brings back all the fear I spent so long trying to stamp out of me. It was the single most terrifying moment of my life and I've never gotten over it. I don't know if I ever will. Perhaps someday I'll simply get used to it and accept that it was a bad thing that happened and it will never change. Since then, I suppose that my relationships with the opposite sex have been tumultuous and difficult. No, I can't describe what happened. I'm afraid I'll lose it all over again."
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`Writing Skill ,,
It was summer now. Marissa Chevalier was seveteen years old. And she was behind bars. How strange it is that when we are kept from feeling something so habitual such as grey morning sunlight on the skin or a teasing wind in the hair, we come to crave it, mourn for it, whereas before we might even have shunned it. It was one of those days during which Marissa longed for the outdoors; in fact, longing for something she simply couldn’t have, whether it was a concrete thing or some elusive feeling she couldn’t pin down, seemed to be the story of her life. Now, when she cast her mind back to all the months she’d spent locked indoors of her own accord with only a large bag of cocaine, some red-coloured wine, and the steady influx of faceless strangers who frequented her friend’s apartment for company, she wished that she’d been a little more appreciative of the freedom to at least go outside, or talk when she wanted to someone who wasn’t either wary or insane, to talk about something other than the emotions swirling like a vortex in her disordered brain, or to do anything without being scrutinised, watched, measured, calculated, noted. Of course, the fact she’d holed away for so long, before the close brush with mortality which had landed her at Bedlam, didn’t have much to do with her. Like all the symptoms she displayed on a day to day basis- the ones, at least, that couldn’t be controlled by regular medication- she didn’t choose to display them. Really, she’d rather not. Unlike some of the teens rattling around inside this enormous cage for the mentally ill, she did not want to be there. She didn’t find it comfortable or comforting, and she didn’t find it helpful. Perhaps she might have done, if she chose to participate in therapy, but she kept her lips firmly shut. What was in her mind were the only things they couldn’t take from her. Well, kind of. On principle, they’d stripped her of her sharps, her priviledges, her freedoms, and her drugs. In reality, who needs sharps when one is discreet enough to burn oneself with their cigarette ends without getting caught? Furthermore, though the priviledge thing did bother her, more for the principle than anything, she acted out and broke the goddamned rules so much that it didn’t seem to matter. Finally, Marissa wasn’t clean. She’d been a year at Bedlam, and she hadn’t once gone through full withdrawal. Sure, she’d been close, when she hadn’t access to the generous patients who slipped her drugs, or when she’d been on twenty-four-hour watch, and rendered unable to sneak out of sight for even a moment. Those had been the most painful times- times when her whole body physically ached, twitched, sighed, gasped, suffocated. Now she’d been at Bedlam for almost a year, she knew the ropes. She knew who to talk to, who to make bargains with, and who could get her what she needed just to make it through a day here.
Marissa Chevalier was a notorious patient, but not only for the reason that she was dangerously rebellious. She was simply notoriously hard to treat. Her personality disorder ripped her in so many different directions, it was impossible to decide where to start helping her, and from what angle. Her eating disorder and her drug addiction and her depression were not illnesses in and of themselves. They were symptoms. All symptoms of one thing: borderline personality disorder. Her drug and eating problems stemmed from her lack of impulse control, and her serious self-destructive tendencies. The depression came as a result of mood imbalances, and only exacerbated all the existing problems. The psychiatrists were left stumped because they just didn’t know where to start. It wasn’t that her illness was any worse than anyone else’s; no, no. In fact, she liked to believe she was superior in that she was less sick than everyone else. Yet something about the term ‘personality disorder’ unsettled her. There was no concrete cure. There was no recovery rate, just the prospect of one day living a ‘normal, regulated life’, whatever that meant. And even the diagnostic criteria was fluid. Sometimes she felt like some kind of an object or machine which had been manufactured ever so slightly wrongly, but was therefore rendered useless. Anyway, the more they had forced Marissa to remain on her own when she was first admitted, the sicker she seemed to become. A pathalogical fear of and desperation to avoid real or imagined abandonment had always been the driving force behind everything Marissa did- or didn’t- do.
But nothing was ever small or mundane with Marissa. When her psychosis gripped her, she saw the world as something so huge and vast, so filled with complexity, and so impossible for her brain to even fathom, that she felt she were drowning in meaning she couldn’t contemplate. Life just seemed so tiresome, such a long time to do whatever wonderful things she had wanted to do. There were too many puzzles to solve and she felt too helpless to work out the answers to life’s great mystery. These enormous questions kept her in a permanent state of anxiety. They troubled her so she couldn’t sleep, eat, or even think. But while she often looked at something- be it the long, checkerboard-tiled hallways of Bedlam (those were particularly troublesome), or a patterned curtain or bedsheet- and saw too much meaning, such as codes she needed to decipher or secret, cryptic messages to figure out, she also often looked at faces or paintings and saw no meaning whatsoever. And the same applied to life as a whole. It was either too large and too frighteningly complicated, or too boring and mundane for her to bother with. Yes, perhaps she thought about things a little too much. And, in fact, that’s what she was doing right now. Thinking. Her therapy session was over, but the idea of going back to the library or something to read a book she had started- and now felt she must finish, if it were the last thing she did, as a matter of principle- was not one she found appleaing. Instead, she crossed the hallway, absentmindedly arranging her feet so that they only stepped on the lines between the tiles, just to be contrary. Finally, she reached the wall, rested her back against it, and slid down into an uncomfortable yet familiar sitting position in a corner. Her emerald eyes glinted like shards of a broken green bottle as they flicked up and down the hallway, waiting for signs of life. Her therapy had been so horrendously tiresome, just another fifty minutes of staring at the clock and trying to make her therapist uncomfortable by flirting with him (oh, that was part of her illness too). She just wanted to talk to someone, or do something fun. Dressed in jeans that hung very loose on her narrow hips and sagged around malnourished legs, with a plain t-shirt and no socks, Marissa’s brunette hair hung heavy and unbrushed down over angular shoulders. Her bottom lip was pink from being chewed on so much, and her nails were ragged. Wow, she needed a cigarette. Or a line. But a cigarette would have to do for now.
[/size][/center]It was summer now. Marissa Chevalier was seveteen years old. And she was behind bars. How strange it is that when we are kept from feeling something so habitual such as grey morning sunlight on the skin or a teasing wind in the hair, we come to crave it, mourn for it, whereas before we might even have shunned it. It was one of those days during which Marissa longed for the outdoors; in fact, longing for something she simply couldn’t have, whether it was a concrete thing or some elusive feeling she couldn’t pin down, seemed to be the story of her life. Now, when she cast her mind back to all the months she’d spent locked indoors of her own accord with only a large bag of cocaine, some red-coloured wine, and the steady influx of faceless strangers who frequented her friend’s apartment for company, she wished that she’d been a little more appreciative of the freedom to at least go outside, or talk when she wanted to someone who wasn’t either wary or insane, to talk about something other than the emotions swirling like a vortex in her disordered brain, or to do anything without being scrutinised, watched, measured, calculated, noted. Of course, the fact she’d holed away for so long, before the close brush with mortality which had landed her at Bedlam, didn’t have much to do with her. Like all the symptoms she displayed on a day to day basis- the ones, at least, that couldn’t be controlled by regular medication- she didn’t choose to display them. Really, she’d rather not. Unlike some of the teens rattling around inside this enormous cage for the mentally ill, she did not want to be there. She didn’t find it comfortable or comforting, and she didn’t find it helpful. Perhaps she might have done, if she chose to participate in therapy, but she kept her lips firmly shut. What was in her mind were the only things they couldn’t take from her. Well, kind of. On principle, they’d stripped her of her sharps, her priviledges, her freedoms, and her drugs. In reality, who needs sharps when one is discreet enough to burn oneself with their cigarette ends without getting caught? Furthermore, though the priviledge thing did bother her, more for the principle than anything, she acted out and broke the goddamned rules so much that it didn’t seem to matter. Finally, Marissa wasn’t clean. She’d been a year at Bedlam, and she hadn’t once gone through full withdrawal. Sure, she’d been close, when she hadn’t access to the generous patients who slipped her drugs, or when she’d been on twenty-four-hour watch, and rendered unable to sneak out of sight for even a moment. Those had been the most painful times- times when her whole body physically ached, twitched, sighed, gasped, suffocated. Now she’d been at Bedlam for almost a year, she knew the ropes. She knew who to talk to, who to make bargains with, and who could get her what she needed just to make it through a day here.
Marissa Chevalier was a notorious patient, but not only for the reason that she was dangerously rebellious. She was simply notoriously hard to treat. Her personality disorder ripped her in so many different directions, it was impossible to decide where to start helping her, and from what angle. Her eating disorder and her drug addiction and her depression were not illnesses in and of themselves. They were symptoms. All symptoms of one thing: borderline personality disorder. Her drug and eating problems stemmed from her lack of impulse control, and her serious self-destructive tendencies. The depression came as a result of mood imbalances, and only exacerbated all the existing problems. The psychiatrists were left stumped because they just didn’t know where to start. It wasn’t that her illness was any worse than anyone else’s; no, no. In fact, she liked to believe she was superior in that she was less sick than everyone else. Yet something about the term ‘personality disorder’ unsettled her. There was no concrete cure. There was no recovery rate, just the prospect of one day living a ‘normal, regulated life’, whatever that meant. And even the diagnostic criteria was fluid. Sometimes she felt like some kind of an object or machine which had been manufactured ever so slightly wrongly, but was therefore rendered useless. Anyway, the more they had forced Marissa to remain on her own when she was first admitted, the sicker she seemed to become. A pathalogical fear of and desperation to avoid real or imagined abandonment had always been the driving force behind everything Marissa did- or didn’t- do.
But nothing was ever small or mundane with Marissa. When her psychosis gripped her, she saw the world as something so huge and vast, so filled with complexity, and so impossible for her brain to even fathom, that she felt she were drowning in meaning she couldn’t contemplate. Life just seemed so tiresome, such a long time to do whatever wonderful things she had wanted to do. There were too many puzzles to solve and she felt too helpless to work out the answers to life’s great mystery. These enormous questions kept her in a permanent state of anxiety. They troubled her so she couldn’t sleep, eat, or even think. But while she often looked at something- be it the long, checkerboard-tiled hallways of Bedlam (those were particularly troublesome), or a patterned curtain or bedsheet- and saw too much meaning, such as codes she needed to decipher or secret, cryptic messages to figure out, she also often looked at faces or paintings and saw no meaning whatsoever. And the same applied to life as a whole. It was either too large and too frighteningly complicated, or too boring and mundane for her to bother with. Yes, perhaps she thought about things a little too much. And, in fact, that’s what she was doing right now. Thinking. Her therapy session was over, but the idea of going back to the library or something to read a book she had started- and now felt she must finish, if it were the last thing she did, as a matter of principle- was not one she found appleaing. Instead, she crossed the hallway, absentmindedly arranging her feet so that they only stepped on the lines between the tiles, just to be contrary. Finally, she reached the wall, rested her back against it, and slid down into an uncomfortable yet familiar sitting position in a corner. Her emerald eyes glinted like shards of a broken green bottle as they flicked up and down the hallway, waiting for signs of life. Her therapy had been so horrendously tiresome, just another fifty minutes of staring at the clock and trying to make her therapist uncomfortable by flirting with him (oh, that was part of her illness too). She just wanted to talk to someone, or do something fun. Dressed in jeans that hung very loose on her narrow hips and sagged around malnourished legs, with a plain t-shirt and no socks, Marissa’s brunette hair hung heavy and unbrushed down over angular shoulders. Her bottom lip was pink from being chewed on so much, and her nails were ragged. Wow, she needed a cigarette. Or a line. But a cigarette would have to do for now.
`Behind The Character ,,
Name: Christabel
Age: 18
Role-playing experience: 3 years
How you found us: RPG Directory
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