  please register with a first, middle and last name, all in lower case letters. plzkaythx. :]
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simmons, talullah jay, student ; twenty-one
| talullah jay simmons |
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that girl is so dangerous
Group: FABRE · ADMIN
Posts: 108
Member No.: 30
Joined: 3-August 08
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yo, the name's sarah but you can call me sarra. i'm a sixteen years old girl from malaysia and i've been role playing for two years now. lucky for me, i found this awesome place through the admin, me. if you want to get in touch with me then pm is best but if that doesn't work you can also find me through kenneth noah ryder and katherine lily ravencroft.
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THE CREATION |
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hey there, i'm talullah jay simmons, but some of the lucky people know me as lulu. unfortunately for you, you're not one of them. i was born on eleventh june 1987 in the city of new york, america. that would make me twenty one. i'm hotter then you'll ever dream of being, with pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. most people remember me by my eyes, no doubt you will too. now if i'm being completely honest i'd have to say that i'm curvy-ish scrawny and it'd be pretty hard to disagree considering i weigh a hundred thirty five pounds and stand at five foot seven inces. none of it means that i'm any less sexy, no way. heh, some people have even gone so far as to say i look like emilie de ravin, now as far as i'm concerned that's a compliment right there. overall, only somebody like me would describe my style as,
moderato. sure, sure. expensive clothes, expensive shoes, but really, why show it all off when there’s still the third world? i keep everything simple and of course, wear ones that flatter my figure. and even though i sound like i’m a fashionista, i’m not. i am all to the funky side really, and my favorite shoes to wear is the converse. all stars aren’t bad too. i’ll wear them with anything, yes, skirts too, though i avoid miniskirts. i guess it’s safe to say that i look like a tomboy, unless i feel like dressing up, which i always do on every friday nights. if you’re asking if i wear makeup, yes i do, but only just a sheer of natural color lip gloss and that’s it. although, there is one thing that i can’t go out without. my backpack. it’s really convenient to have a white freestyle bag, it suits with anything, even a dress! i normally wouldn’t carry it around during dates, what on earth are people going to say? maybe possibly nothing at all, but they will just stare at me like i’m some kind of an incoherent fool. i probably am, but what do they know? as i often say to others, there’s always more to the book than the cover.
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ALWAYS IN THE NIGHT WHILE YOU LIVE IT UP
LIKES ,lavender •• honestly, who doesn’t love lavenders?
cats •• i love em. big cats, little cats. what’s not to love?
reading •• mmm, especially romance. i’m a helpless romantic.
hats •• they cover me from the rain. and bird poop.
hot chocolate •• it’s in season. you should try it.
clothes & accessories •• anything that makes me look good.
being loud •• loud is good. keeps you away from danger. DISLIKES ,hypocrites •• i’m not one, so don’t go bitchy on me, thank you.
déjà vu’s •• because i loathe being reminded of the past.
horrible kissers •• feeling thick, rubbery lips on mine? god save me.
wars & fights •• tell me, what’s the use? they are still humans.
pins & needles •• the sensation. it’s worse than cramps.
blood ••i can smell them and taste them just by smelling. ew.
balloons •• it’s because we wouldn’t know when they will pop up. STRENGTHS ,ambitious •• i will make sure that i get whatever i want.
great listener •• other people’s problems are my own problems.
cunning •• thankfully. i hate losing when i know i can win over something.
sneaky & mischievous •• lulla’s a puma! you be careful, heehee.
perfectionist •• i love uniformity sometimes.
creative •• haha, pretty ironic, i know. since creativity doesn’t need to be perfect.
patient •• i’m very patient. so do try not to use up my patience quota. WEAKNESSES ,sensitive •• mhmm, so please try not to hurt my feelings.
rambles incoherently •• i can go on and on and on till the end of the world.
stubborn •• yes, i am pretty hard-headed. i’m sorry if you have a problem with that.
troublesome •• even though i don’t know what i did wrong.
falls frequently •• i’m just so terribly light on my feet, i can’t help it.
self-defenseless •• just because i look like a tomboy doesn’t mean i’m tough.
truthful •• yeah… i can’t lie. ever. not once. HABITS/QUIRKS ,being random •• random is good, because it keeps you from being depressed.
biting the bottom lip •• usually when i’m nervous. or thinking.
playing with a lock of hair •• it’s just who i am. and i love my hair. bug off. <3
doing the puppy-dog pout •• a quick way to get what you want. haha.
nail biting •• it often happens when i’m watching a horror movie.
reading in the car •• and then i’ll get a mahoosive migrain. no pain, no gain, right?
holding a sneeze •• the cute thing is, i sound like a kitty sneezing! wee! FEARS ,very horrifying movies ••despite my aunt’s effort for me to watch it to overcome the fear.
cockroaches •• this fear developed after i found thousands of them underneath my bed sheets.
intimidating looking men •• ahh, it’s a long story. i’ll bore you to death.
pop quizzes •• i’m not generally smart. so you do realize where i’m standing at?
sudden loud things •• like thunder! and lightings! and balloons!
getting nightmares •• because it’s like a soap opera. it continues with no stop.
unfaithful spouse •• what i claim is mine, is mine. and nobody else’s. FLAWS ,lygirophobiac •• yes, and i’ll be cringing at every sudden things. horrible.
gullible •• i believe all people are good. except the ones who i know aren’t any good.
disability to lie •• i can’t lie, even if my very existence depended on it.
lazy •• i don’t mean to be a potato couch, but i don’t exactly like to work hard on things i don’t like.
easily anxious •• a sensitive girl must have a hormonal imbalance, no?
fainting •• usually when the weather’s too hot, and also at the sight of blood.
high heels •• literally. high heels will be the death of me, with my frequent tripping and all. GENERAL PERSONALITY ,Troublesome.
If there was one word that could wrap me up in a whole and put me in a pretty box with a lovely red bow, it’s that. I’ve been difficult since I was a baby, or so I was told, and I think that is how a child should be. I started to climb stairs sooner than I should, giving almost worry to my mother, running around the house like a madman- or a mad child in this case, and broke every single law that my father has laid down on the carpet for me. If I was another person, I wouldn’t blame the kid for being so naughty, because her parents were never really attentive to her. But putting the hypothetical terms aside, I liked being like that. It’s like the world was under my power! Mwahaha! Of course, I’m joking, but it does feel nice when you can obliterate anything you want, even rules. Unfortunately though, that habit of being such a nuisance is stuck with me. Or is that a good thing? Because I can’t tell. From my point of view, I think it is good in some cases. And then, some just might not work. My mischievousness had once almost ended me up spending the night in the cell, almost because the cops were so easy to deceit. Wink wink hint hint. Alright, I’m guilty, lock me in. I just wanted to save my bum from having to sit on the cold floor, you know? I bet you’d do anything to get your hind from being behind bars. So there, my conscious is clean as a whistle.
Speaking of consciousness, have I ever told you that I always talk to it? Yes, it means that I seem to be speaking to myself. A loon. Not that I mind, but I wouldn’t be like so if that voice in my head wasn’t so naggy. I don’t do it in public though, because usually when I’m in a crowd, the voice sort of helps. I’m useless in some things. Like public speaking. Ironically, I’m good in theater performance. But I think that’s just because I’m focusing on remembering the lines and channeling my feelings to the right amount and all. Public speaking is just… not in the Talullah book. It would mean that you have to interact with thousands of people directly. I’m still working on that, though let’s not get your hopes to high. I might just puke in the middle of the speech and you’d be disappointed because I was doing well through half of it.
And I have no problem whatsoever with making myself look like an idiot on the stage, because that’s just plain effortless fun. Admit it, who doesn’t like fun? Fun makes you smile, and smiling makes your face less wrinkly. Yes, a secret to keeping yourself from having to wear anti-wrinkling beauty products. Another one of my traits: I looove to smile. Smile to everybody you know and you will shine! Okay, I’ll stop rambling.
Oh, and I ramble! But you’ve figured that out already haven’t you? Hm, well rambling is good when you’re very very stressed out. Ramble to yourself or to your conscious and you’ll feel better in one second. It’s a way to prevent yourself from having to go to a shrink. And shrinks aren’t so good either, all they do is say: ‘Mmhm,’ or ‘So how do you feel right now?’ or ‘Alright,’ and then they’d scribble something on their notepads. And who knows what they’d be scribbling about us! ‘This girl needs to find another shrink,’ or better, ‘She should go to the mental institution.’ I wonder what my mum writes. She’s a therapist too. If only I was a bit more snoop-ish when I was a kid, I’d sneak into her office and read all the notes. I know I shouldn’t, since it’s confidential, but I’m far too curious for my own good. Then again, I wouldn’t want any silly child to poke their dirty noses in my problems either. Having to take care of preschoolers only means that there’s already enough poking. No need for the little devils to go smearing their greasy hands in my dilemma.
But I don’t hate kids. I never hated any kids, and I can never hate kids, be they spastic or normal or just too active. I would know how they feel when an adult has that deception aura. But let’s not go to my history for now. To simply put, I love children to death, even if I have to see the Grim to save them from it. I don’t care how old they are, or how bratty they are. All children should be loved as equally as we love our spouse. They are the most precious gift God has ever given to a person or a couple, and it makes me sad to think that a mother can throw their child away just like that. It’s enough to have seen a child be treated so cruelly, but- ends his life yourself? That is beyond unforgivable. I should work for the Child Protection Agency or whatever when I get out of college. I will probably get a good resume from the school’s headmaster too. Oh and the teachers and also my aunt. They know I love kids. And I don’t do lies. It doesn’t do any good for your health. So when I tell you that kids are love, kids are love. I love kids. We should all love kids. Babies above all. They’re defenseless and they do nothing but cry, eat, laugh and poop and then they go to sleep for countless of hours. That shouldn’t be a problem to anyone. A snoring baby is just, eeee! You feel like you want to pinch them while they’re sleeping but because you don’t want to wake them up, you decide to go against it.
Oh God, I get hyper easily.
Just give me anything sweet to eat or to talk about to get me squealing. Chocolates don’t really work, but tea does. When I’m sober, my aunt always kept me away from drinking any sort of teas. During teatime, I’ll be drinking hot chocolate. But whenever she sees me with the earliest hint that I’m going to go through another breakdown, she’ll give me tea. It calms me during my worst days, and makes me worse when I’m plain happy. Yes, you’re right. I have constant mood swings. My hormones are never in equilibrium, so that applies to my emotions too. I can feel happy, angry, excited, and sad all at the same time. A thunderstorm of emotions can take place in my heart. I’m just plain kaleidoscopic with feelings! I have never seen myself like that before, but it feels great to know. And you want to know something? I abhor coffees. Coffees make me sleep instead of keeping me wake up. I don’t like it when I’m working hard on something; someone else offers me a coffee. Tea would do, but coffee?! I know I shouldn’t get angry at them, after all, not everybody knows about this certain fact about me. But when you’re stressed out, you just can’t seem to help it but be a little crabby.
And to add to my perfect flaw list, I’m a little whiney.
When I don’t get something I want, I’ll whine like a puppy. Believe it or not, I’ll pout like one too. Of course, that’s usually during when my head is a little clouded, then I get impatient. But besides that time, I’m pretty much tolereant. Oh come on, if I can stand about fifteen to thirty noisy kids, I can pretty much survive anything else. Yes, even two years of horrible relationship. But the only horrible relationship I’ve ever been through was about two months, because I had hurt the guy’s self-esteem. I am not a dreadful girlfriend, thank you very much! I’m just a little picky with whom I do it with. I want him to be kind and gentle and patient with me in certain things, like when I’m having my PMS and when I’m a little grumpy in the morning and when I tease him and leave him a little troubled. And I want all that in a guy because I’m cruel and harsh and demanding at some point. Of course, I wouldn’t be called a female if I’m not generally weak. I’m hopelessly weak and I hate it when I look like a damsel in distress. I can be tough whenever I want! I can hit, I can take one too, if they weren’t too scared to hit a girl. I’d hit a girl too, if I feel that I’m threatened. I’m protective on certain things, particularly on the people I love. I’d give them a death glare too if looks could kill. What I want is mine and mine alone.
As stubborn as I am, it’d be a miracle for me to change at all. I guess I inherited it from my father. When he has set his mind on a goal, there was nothing that could keep him away from achieving it. It’s pretty useful for him, since he’s a lawyer, and maybe that’s the main reason why he wins almost all of his cases. For me, being stubborn is a little error. I hate it that I can make a man crawl on the floor with just a little seduction, and that almost no one can deny my wishes. That’s the problem. I need someone who can say no to me, even if I’m right. I get everything I want with almost no effort, and that’s why I feel overly threatened when what I have is what other people want, because I don’t generally get challenged with anything or anyone. Though the good part of having that trait is that it’s convenient when I want to help other people. I do have my own ways. Sometimes I do it without realizing I was helping that person out, sometimes I nag like a horse. In the end, I make sure that I get what I want. Or maybe I won’t if the person’s good enough to stop me.
So that’s where you can see that I’m a natural at being needy. First I would want this and the next second I would want that. And like every other most typical girl, I wanted to be popular. The center of attention. Why? Well it’s basic logic really. My parents never gave much interest in what I do -- as if you don’t know that already -- or what I am, or if I’m home or not in the middle of the night. Simple compliments are like drug pills to healthy people. They never wanted to touch it, swallow it, nor give it to other people. Actually, it was only me but I never saw them complimenting Corey and Paul either, though, I doubt that since I don’t know anything about my New York family besides that they’re too busy with their horribly boring life. I know that any parents would be boasting the two nerds with compliments, especially because they’re in Harvard. Being popular isn’t a priority to me anymore now, I’ve had my share during high school and well, someone had changed me for the better. The selfishness in me had dissolved partially, unconsciously, and I’m glad.
I’m grateful. I’m grateful for what I have, what I don’t have, for what I had lost and gained. And I’m grateful for having that one thing that people are always searching for. Love. Life has no meaning to me without it and when I had lost my first love… I just couldn’t go on anymore. I give up easily after a breakdown, thankfully my aunt was there to soothe me in my grief or I wouldn’t be here at all. I know that I can easily forgive my parents for sending me off to London. Maybe they saw what my aunt could give me that they couldn’t? But I have to admit that I still have a little grudge to them. But that doesn’t concern me, because I’ll never stop looking for my own love. I have motherly affection, I have a brotherly affection, and now… I need to give someone else besides them to give. Compassionate and loyal. That’s just what I am.
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UNDER COVER ON THE STREET
FAMILY ,madeline gray-simmons •• fifty . mother . psychiatrist
isaiah simmons •• fifty-three . father . lawyer
corey simmons •• twenty-seven . brother . lawyer
derrick simmons •• twenty-four . brother . businessman
marie elizabeth gray-harrison •• fifty . aunt . lawyer
jacques harrison •• fifty . uncle . deceased
jack harrison junior •• twenty-two . cousin . student
GENERAL HISTORY ,I very much hated my past. I Still do. And the ironic thing is it’s like a never-ending soap opera. There were more downs than the ups, and soap opera itself is already completely obliviously nerve-wrecking. It makes me wonder how I had never ended up in a happy home. It probably would have suited me better; with all the clean white fabric, and how everyone always has this certain freaky happy smile on their faces. And my childhood… it wasn’t much like a childhood. Generally it consisted of silence; there were scarce exchange of words. But there was one memory that had embedded itself into my head until this day and it’s that there was really no laughter at all. I don’t really jest in such things, literally no one laughed, and I couldn’t laugh either because of the non-laughing state my family is in.
Let me go back in time, and begin my story there.
It was somewhere in the middle of June in 1987 in New York City, which also means that it was somewhere in the middle of the summer, when I was born. Little I realized that seasons affects on how people behave. My other family members where either born in the fall or in the winter, and hence why all act equally as cold. To be horribly frank, I can barely remember anything from then till I was five. Then everything made sense. The cold shoulders, the red-beet faces every time I do something wrong or right. I saw that hidden hint of despise in their eyes -- by their, I meant my parents -- and it makes me shudder to think that my own family can feel that way to me. Could they hate me because they had a daughter instead of another son? They seem to take fond of Corey and Paul, both male, and I’m… I don’t know. See, I’m the only girl in the wealthy family -- excluding my mother, of course -- but there’s this just one point in time that I feel like God had planted me into the wrong womb. Yes, I know I shouldn’t blame God on all of this, but I just can’t help it. It shouldn’t entirely be my fault, should it? Anyway, I was alone all the time. My governess was the only one who didn’t really care on my wild attitude -- alright, I’m guilty. I was a riot back then too -- but I still received no motherly affection whatsoever. She was like another one of those things in life that just comes and goes. I do wish it would at least be a little different, but I don’t think that I would ever really truly regret it. I mean, I have my aunt, but we’ll get to that part later.
I never had kiddy trips to the zoo with my family- or the museum as a matter of fact. But Greta -- that’s my governess’s name -- always took me to the park. I hated the evening trips to the park. I don’t even know why she had even bothered continuing taking me to the heart-torturing outing. Maybe she was blind and daft. I cried silently in my room each time we went back home. The sites of happy families spending time together, laughing -- ugh, laughing! -- it just makes my heart ache badly. Can you believe I had to go through the same thing till I was ten? Thankfully I managed to develop a temper-tantrum and made Greta stop taking me to the park two years earlier instead of two years later. Somehow I think that my brothers knew about this, but I wouldn’t know of how they feel about my ordeal. Corey and Paul always kept things to themselves -- besides their study obviously. Nothing concerns them more than getting an A instead of an A plus -- you wouldn’t know what they were thinking even if learning of their knowledge is the key to the world’s existence.
And my parents were… well, Mum and Dad were never really home. They were just too busy with their career, maintaining their reputation and also adding more money to their bloated accounts. But when they were, that would mean to keep me out of their way. I always get a scolding to after every dinner for anything that they saw as ‘not in place’. And to add to my mental-ness, I liked it. It was a way of getting them to talk to me, pay attention for at least just a second, so basically I always kept the house in a mess, ending me up with a bickering session with the caretaker. I didn’t care, there can be another million of caretakers, but no one can ever replace my parents.
From eleven to twelve, I had a very tight schedule. It was a way of my parents to keep me busy; it’d be a nice thought to think that they did it because they didn’t want me to notice their constant disappearance -- a way to express their love to me -- and actually felt concerned about my studies and future, but no. It’s just a childish trick to keep me out of their hair. Apparently it didn’t work, because I wasn’t really a child. I hate to say this word to describe them, but for two awfully successful people, they were actually pretty stupid. So every different day, I had to face a lot of faces. I studied a lot of languages, a lot of histories, but none of it intrigued me. Especially history- God, it bored me to death! Yet anyhow, my tweens went without a hitch. If you considered being packed down with homework and crap not a hitch. Oh well, at least I wasn’t feeling so sad, though I did feel a little angry now and then. Besides, it doesn’t matter now. Because high school was just awesome. And I don’t really use the word awesome, so when I do, it really means something. I was at top of the popularity ladder, along with my peers, and the world was under my command. Okay, a little exaggerating, but it did felt that way. What we wore today was what the wannabes wore tomorrow, and nothing could really crush us. But truth be told, I wasn’t really much to gossiping with the other girls, I always smiled and giggled when required. Corey and Paul’s silence was rubbing off on me, much to my dread. It wasn’t till later that I found out that I didn’t really care to be in the center of attention. Something -- or rather, someone -- caught my interest.
Daniel Stevens.
‘Twas in my sophomore year did I notice that he was there, staring at us like he wanted to rip our throats off. Or maybe that’s just me, but he did look kind of intimidating back then. Intimidating, cute and sexy. What had made me -- and my heart, so to speak -- stopped and stared for that one second was his baby blue eyes. Cold, heartless, but I don’t know what made me attracted to him more. It was like he had this some sort of Talullah magnet stuck to him, and it dragged me closer and closer and closer… Too bad it was all in my state of mind, I never spoke to him. My mind was going nuts -- as if it wasn’t already were -- and it frustrated me that I get flabbergasted to the point of no coherency whenever I saw him on the lunch table across from where I sat during lunch. My charm ran away!
Then, one day as Fate wants it, I ran into him. Literally ran into him. There I was, walking around with my tray of food during lunch, trying to convince my friends with no prevail that I was just looking at no one in particular and feel none whatsoever towards ‘whoever’ this Daniel guy is when suddenly, a wall hit me. Rock hard, pure solid chest. If I was like water, I could have melted like ice right there and then. I was completely breathless. He knocked it out. Too bad I had spoiled his lovely jacket. Then again, I wouldn’t be able to get to see his abs when he walked me home and took his jacket off to put on a shirt I offered. Okay- so no reconsiderations there. Oh, and did I mention he had to-die-for abs? Mm, abs. But of course, I never forgot about my friends. They were worried at first when they saw me going out with him, but started squealing with me when I told them that we kissed. Though I wasn’t really the kind to kiss and tell, much to their disappointment. Feeling cruel, I left them hanging at ‘and then he came nearer and nearer and…’ My family was no longer a concern to me after he came into my life. I had something real to distract me from the pain, and I wasn’t about to let him go. At first, I was scared to be with him. Daniel wasn’t like any of my friends’ boyfriends, they were all jocks whose heads were full with over-inflated ego. I even wondered how on Earth my friends could stand them, but I guess I don’t blame them for being cheerleaders. I wasn’t one because I didn’t want to be. Nevertheless, I was afraid.
He was something else. He was kind and funny and strong and protective, not to mention humble, something that’s been lacking in all of my brothers. I looked to him for comfort; told him certain things that I can never tell anyone else. Like how my parents treated me like an outsider, like how my brothers was never concerned about me, and how I never went to the zoo. Daniel ‘flipped out’ when I told him about the latter one, and immediately took me to the zoo the next day. Something unexpected happened then, the memory makes me laugh so hard that I could cry every time I remember it.
They told us that the animals were going to make a performance somewhere after lunch, and that the main act was by lions. And you know how I am with lions. If I wasn’t born as a human, I can swear to you that I would be born as a big cat. I adore them to no end, just like how I adored Daniel. Maybe I should stop using past-tenses for my feelings toward him, because I still feel the same way about him even to this day. Aside the fact that will be cleared up later, we went to the show and the surprising thing was that when the performer asked anyone to come out, I was the first to jump in the chance- much to Daniel’s horror. Without heeding his pleads, I went to the stage, shook my hand with the trainer and suddenly I was licked by the elegant beast! We did some tricks after that, and I couldn’t feel any happier than my whole life! Besides being with Daniel that is. So that was when he started calling me Kitty, because he once had this kitten that was stupidly brave enough to go and find trouble by sitting on top of his car’s tire and you know what happens next. The poor thing died. He almost thought that I was going to end up dead too, though I know he was glad I wasn’t. Kitty was a special nickname for me. He’s the only one who’s allowed to call me with such intimacy and fondness and love…
He bedded me not so long after nearing our senior year. During spring, if I’m not mistaken. I remembered every single detail, every touch, every kiss, every- oh gosh, I need to breathe. But let me tell you this: He was indeed, a very sexy beast. I’ll skip this part since it was way too personal and mind-blowing for words. Things were very much cheery the rest of our high school life. I was still a close friend of the popular; he was still that intimidating looking guy. I have to admit, it was hard to keep the other girls away from him. I know he’s hot and all, but can’t they see that he’s already taken? I had my stamp all over his face. They must be blind. I was annoyed, especially when Daniel would comment me that I looked cute with the pink tinge on my face. If only I could end this story with we lived happily ever after. Unfortunately, I was no Cinderella. And he wasn’t much of the Prince Charming I pictured in my mind.
The year was 2005, somewhere after Graduation. I was in his room when I heard some unexplainable noise downstairs. I could have run down to check on what was going on, but I already heard the stairs booming like it was exploding. But it wasn’t the stairs that was blowing up. My perfect guy was like a volcano. And I was really, really scared. I watched him, everything he touched he destroyed, like red-searing lava flowing over the top and annihilated everything in its path. He even hurt himself! I couldn’t bear it. Tearing, and feeling very much like a scared cat, I ran home. Who knew that the last place I wanted to live in was the place that I wanted to come back to? I didn’t care that my parents were home, didn’t care that my brothers were not there to console me yet again because they were too busy minding their Harvard friends, I cried and I cried till my tears ran out. My mother tried to talk to me, figure out what was happening, but it was too late for her to do that. I was already devastated, distraught. Later that night after dinner, they told me that they were sending me off to London to live with my aunt. Told me that it was an adventure, a temporary leave, instead of just saying it flat out that they were kicking me out because I was such a thorn in their sides. But I didn’t want to leave New York!
New York was my life, despite that I was miserable in it. I was brought up there my whole life, and when my parents told me that they were kicking me out in their own way, I fell apart. I just broke up with the love of my life without getting to say goodbye and now I’m losing the comfort of the big city too? Of course, I knew I could have called him, told him that I was sorry I was acting like a drama queen, but even if he did forgive me, the sound of his voice was going to make my leave harder. I needed the pain more than ever since I lost the argument regarding my leave with my father -- who also happens to be a lawyer. With a still broken heart, I left.
Things were just getting better and better.
In the plane, I tried to convince myself that London wouldn’t be all that bad. There would be thousands of other cute guys with an ever cuter accent in London. And Paris was just a train trip away, oh all the clothes! I did feel slightly better, though I knew I could only be swayed momentarily before I fall back down again and cry my heart out. I slept through the whole trip so I wouldn’t be able to wake up to reality and feel the agony that was waiting to come smash me in the face like a ten ton house. One of the reasons I didn’t want to go to London was that I never met Aunt Marie. I didn’t want to meet her, because I presumed that she was exactly like my mother, since I heard that she’s her twin and all that. But to my incredulity, Aunt Marie was perfectly a lovely person. She’s so small, so petite, but she looked too much like my mother, fashion sense aside. And because of that, I didn’t totally open myself up to her. Plus, she was a stranger. Little by little, she gained my trust. It was hard not to love that woman. And even though no one can replace my mother, Aunt Marie was like a mother to me. She had all this affection and who wouldn’t feel the same way to a darling doll? I’m not sure that I can say the same to her son, my ‘cousin’, Jack. He acted so cold when he greeted me at the airport and even you would wonder why he would act so defensive. If only I could say, “Hello, Captain Obvious. You’re not the only one who’s miserable here.” So I ignored him like I ignored my brothers. He’s just another fly on the wall, ready to bug me like the critter he is whenever he feels like it. My life was getting terrible by the minute.
I attended Rutherford because I couldn’t be bothered to go survey it. The brochure and letter was tempting too, so I made my decision before I knew what I was signing up for. I was signing up for a revolution. A change of attitude, a change of mind. Sadly my heart didn’t change. There were boys, but that’s just what they were. Boys. None of them had the Talullah magnet; none of them attracted me like Daniel did. But after promising Aunt Marie that I would try to find someone, I had to keep my promise. I searched, only to find myself looking for anything that would remind me of Daniel. His hair color, his eyes, his body posture, his sexiness in his intimidating aura. I must have been losing my mind. The search lasted a few months, and I found somebody that was close to him. Ugh! Why can’t I be like any other normal female and just pick one cute guy that piqued my interest? I knew I was crazy, but not that crazy. I was way past obsessive, but I never felt the same way to my second boyfriend like I did to Daniel.
Unlike Daniel, he was more to the jock side. Yes, full grown spoiled brat with an even overgrown head of ego that can play sports. I didn’t know that I had picked the wrong guy, or maybe it was me that was doing something wrong. Maybe I bruised his precious ego, because he tried to do… things to me. The memory was something unpleasant, I’m really thankful that I even survived the attack. No, he didn’t get what he wanted. It made me realize that I was addicted to Daniel more than I think I was. I couldn’t even have sex with another guy! How sick am I? A normal sane girl would just jump at the chance of doing that with the monster. But not me. Not Talullah Jay Simmons, the girl who has a couple of loose bolts somewhere in her head. I lost my title to Daniel, and I can never really see myself doing it with somebody else. No one was as worth as he is. He was even worth my life. I’m a very idiotic person for leaving him like that. I should have stayed, face the guy; hug the guy in his time of need. Stupid, overly sensitive Talullah.
When I was sure that I wasn’t so shaky enough, I went and told Aunt Marie about it, and made her swear to never ever make me do things that I don’t want to do. Reluctantly, she did. I know she just wants the best for me, wished for me to be happy. It was half my fault too- I wasn’t being any helpful with all the crying and screaming in the middle of the night and stuff. I told her that I was contented with what I have right now, her, a roof above my head, food, clothes, education and a new brother who refuses to talk to me for no apparent reason. She’s not very persuaded with that, but it did make her stop trying so hard, to my relief. She was setting me up on blind dates every weekend, for God sakes! And now that I got a job as a pre-school teacher, I wouldn’t be able to go on these appointments with strangers because I had to rest on the weekends. Oh you know how kids are these days. Exhausting, but the job pay is satisfying, not to mention that I love being around kids. She needed to focus on Jack instead of me, anyway. That son of hers is in great depression, I can expect hair fall and baldness somewhere soon. Not that I care. Oh no.
And now, I just hope for the best.
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SOMEONE LIKE YOU AND ALL YOU KNOW
READ THE RULES , admin edited.MEMBER TITLE , lolROLEPLAY SAMPLE ,
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skinned by me , SARRA. touch it and die. :]
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