Post by ella may yorkie on May 3, 2009 12:54:54 GMT -3
I'M ON THE RIGHT TRACK, YEAH I AM A WINNER[/FONT]
E L L A ● MAY ● Y O R K I E
she gives this liberation that i just can't deny..
SEVENTEEN ● UNIQUE ● FOXFORD HUMAN
Jac Vanek
Ella is not your average teenager. No, I don't mean she drinks people's blood or morphs into a wolf. She's just a unique human. Instead of wearing sparkly eyeshadow, throwing on an Aeropostale shirt, and going off to hang around in the mall with her Barbie doll friends, she decorates her face with unusual makeup (she typically draws thick eyeliner around her dark blue eyes) and takes a walk in the park by herself or finds somewhere to sit and writes or draws in one of her many notebooks. What drives her to not go with the flow and join everyone else in their normal teenager activities? No one can really say, but it’s really just Ella’s way of life. It’s her personality. She couldn’t be like everyone else if she tried, not that she would want to. She would rather cut off her dyed-blonde locks—which are cut in choppy layers to her shoulder and are more important to Ella than any pet—than hang out with the normal, “popular” kids from school. So she’s usually by herself or hanging out with someone as unusual as her.
She wasn’t always like this, though. When she was born seventeen years ago, her mother and father did everything they could to raise her to be a happy, normal child. She was in daycare so she could be socialized, even though two-year-olds don’t really need to be in daycare for fun. She was popular in school when she was older. She had many, many friends, but when she started junior high, she started doing different things. She didn’t want to listen to the latest pop group; she wanted to rock out to her “punk crap.” She didn’t like how bitchy the girls she had been hanging out with were getting. So she strayed away from that group and started doing her own thing, and surprisingly, doing so made her much happier. She dyed her naturally wavy, brown hair blond and straightened it daily. She purposely started sitting at the Reject Table at lunch. She was being herself.
So now Ella is a nice, friendly girl, proudly unique, and completely unaware of the shape shifters and vampires. Her main weaknesses are that sometimes, since she doesn’t socialize nearly as much as she used to, she loses track of her thoughts and stutters or says something stupid, thus embarrassing herself; she also hates public speaking. But that’s okay—she doesn’t really mind those things. She’s happy with her life, and that’s all that really matters, right?
NYLA ● THIRTEEN ● PM
"Hell must be more pleasant than this.
It might not be so unbearable to Isabella May Standard if she wasn't completely and utterly alone, but she was. And she knew there was no one who she could go to. Who would understand what kind of predicament she was in? No one. Not even Hunter, the boy she now loved more than anything in the world. She loved him more than Buttons. That was a love that not even her parents had earned from her, even though they'd done everything they could and more. But not even her love could help her now, she thought. She had betrayed him, and she knew this. And she thought he didn't even know yet.
Bella had been sick fifteen times since two o'clock in the morning. Nothing was coming up after the fifth or so time because her stomach was empty, but her body would still bend and contract over the porcelain, trying to work something out, even though it was impossible. That alone was enough to make the girl miserable, but oh, that was nothing compared to the raging storm in her head. Even though no one had dared to scold her yet, she was lashing herself enough to make up for all of them, and then some.
She was stupid. Worthless. Idiotic. A whore. A slut. A horrible excuse for Josh's daughter. For Charlie's daughter. For a girlfriend. For a human being. She didn't deserve to live. The world would be better off if she was dead.
Guilt, shame, and extreme doses of misery crushed down on her, and if they didn't weigh her to the tile floor she now lay on, she would go hurl herself under a bus. It was seven in the morning; everyone apparently was asleep. But still, she'd kept to herself, staying in the her bathroom confines since the morning sickness had started and dealing with her pain in her own ways. Sweat and blood were dripped all over the small room, but she paid no attention to that or the throbbing on her wrists. Now she was trying to figure out where she could shove the small blade so it would kill her. She was done. This was way, way too much for her.
Blue lamps watered and finally a loud sob erupted down the halls of the mansion." [/center]
TEMPLATE © TO FAE ! @ CAUTION V 2
[/ul]
