Post by Fel Touu on Apr 17, 2011 20:55:14 GMT -5
Hello, my name is Maruch Black and I have a sort of god-complex. And I'm addicted to anime/manga. And I have friend issues. And I've got anger-management problems. And I was diagnosed with Dysthymia. Heh. You pronounce Maruch like Mahr-oo-ch. It's not my real name but I like it better than the one my parents gave me. It's like 'march' with a u added in.
I guess it's really no surprise how kindergarden is like for kids who are a bit different. I was teased, obviously, and that went on through high school. Way before grade school ended I decided that I didn't need to even try and talk to such awful people. It was a stupid thing to be thinking because when you really get down to it people are the only thing in this world that are worth living for. The sky is pretty and so are mountains, but no one wakes up and says 'I'm going to donate to charity because the sky exists and because there's a nice big mountain somewhere in asia.' That would be stupid. People donate to charity with the starving kid in africa in mind. Being me, I came to that conclusion to late and was diagnosed with mild depression (they called it Dysthymia). At the time I had thought it was funny that they'd invented a disease that caused a hatred of people. Illogical, stupid.
I don't have anything to say about my home life other than that I found it boring. I was the youngest with five older sister. Needless to say there are tons of pictures in the photo albums of me dressed up as a fairy or Cinderella or Britney Spears. (All of those photos are now safely stored on the computer too, since my parents caught me trying to cut up most of them.) Since my parents were always preoccupied with 'Mom! I don't know which college is better for me, Standford or Georgia tech?' and 'Mommmmy, my boyfriend cheated on me - sob-. Whaddu I doooo, I'm gonna kill that--------' and 'Daddddddy! Christian cut her haaaaaiiiiiir.' I was pretty much left to myself. It wasn't until I got 'a mental illness' that I got any attention and by then I didn't want any of it. My parents weren't bad, just busy and kinda ignorant of what the repercussions of having six children were. (Five extremely codependent daughters and one socially-rejected son.)
Hm... high school. Most of high school was studying and getting through tests for me, I never had any problems with the classes, they were easy, but I was always studying so I'd just have something to do. I really got into writing books and poetry and even drawing since I had so much free time, and since I liked that better than sleeping I started doing all of that at night when no one else was even up. As a result I looked like the walking dead most of the time. It would have been safe to say that I lived in a world all of my own.
Sophomore year I realized that it was impossible to write books without understanding people. My characters were all the same since I didn't know anyone but me, and everything was flat. I decided that for the sake of my books I would get to know people. As I said before, I'd stopped 'hating' people a while ago, but it wasn't like I was ready to join the group hugs. These were still the people that ignored me and teased me.
Project Social Integration kind of rolled over and died. Like an opossum, but not faking it. I dunno what I was looking for, but I didn't find much more than a few politely disinterested people who said 'hi' back to me whenever I forced myself to talk. It was great, I was really living on the edge of life for a while. Junior year I got my gift. This is where the half-assed god-complex comes in, because my gift was to give other people gifts. It took me a while to figure out what I was doing, but it all clicked after most of the people I talked to got gifts too. Even animals, though the animals more mutated than gained gifts. (I think there are still a few pigs with wings floating around my hometown. And my cat ended up with color-changing fur and a forked tail. Sorry Snowball.) At first I thought it was really great because I could make myself an army of mutated animals. Stuff like lions that breathed fire and venomous hamsters. I never got farther than daydreaming about my army because, after I thought about it for a while, I wouldn't know what to do to an army. In addition to that, I didn't really like mutating animals on purpose. No matter how much I told myself that I'd turn a stray cat into a lion I couldn't do it because I felt like I'd be forcing it into a life it didn't like and that it'd be kind of unfair. I was to determined to remain the good guy. (The deciding factor was that I didn't know how I'd get the mutated animals to form an army anyways. Loyalty isn't in genes.)
After my parents saw what I'd 'done' to snowball they freaked out and sent their poor sick son to Havens. I guess they thought that I'd be happier there. I didn't argue because it would have been pointless to stay where I was.
Right, I've got to say what I look like. I've got brown eyes, really pale skin, and kind of long black hair that's always in my eyes. I'm tall and really skinny and a bit sick looking because I never sleep and I only eat stuff that's 'junk'. I have a thing against sweats because they look stupid and I really like white shirts and black pants. Grey's good too. On a side note, I'm seventeen.
I guess it's really no surprise how kindergarden is like for kids who are a bit different. I was teased, obviously, and that went on through high school. Way before grade school ended I decided that I didn't need to even try and talk to such awful people. It was a stupid thing to be thinking because when you really get down to it people are the only thing in this world that are worth living for. The sky is pretty and so are mountains, but no one wakes up and says 'I'm going to donate to charity because the sky exists and because there's a nice big mountain somewhere in asia.' That would be stupid. People donate to charity with the starving kid in africa in mind. Being me, I came to that conclusion to late and was diagnosed with mild depression (they called it Dysthymia). At the time I had thought it was funny that they'd invented a disease that caused a hatred of people. Illogical, stupid.
I don't have anything to say about my home life other than that I found it boring. I was the youngest with five older sister. Needless to say there are tons of pictures in the photo albums of me dressed up as a fairy or Cinderella or Britney Spears. (All of those photos are now safely stored on the computer too, since my parents caught me trying to cut up most of them.) Since my parents were always preoccupied with 'Mom! I don't know which college is better for me, Standford or Georgia tech?' and 'Mommmmy, my boyfriend cheated on me - sob-. Whaddu I doooo, I'm gonna kill that--------' and 'Daddddddy! Christian cut her haaaaaiiiiiir.' I was pretty much left to myself. It wasn't until I got 'a mental illness' that I got any attention and by then I didn't want any of it. My parents weren't bad, just busy and kinda ignorant of what the repercussions of having six children were. (Five extremely codependent daughters and one socially-rejected son.)
Hm... high school. Most of high school was studying and getting through tests for me, I never had any problems with the classes, they were easy, but I was always studying so I'd just have something to do. I really got into writing books and poetry and even drawing since I had so much free time, and since I liked that better than sleeping I started doing all of that at night when no one else was even up. As a result I looked like the walking dead most of the time. It would have been safe to say that I lived in a world all of my own.
Sophomore year I realized that it was impossible to write books without understanding people. My characters were all the same since I didn't know anyone but me, and everything was flat. I decided that for the sake of my books I would get to know people. As I said before, I'd stopped 'hating' people a while ago, but it wasn't like I was ready to join the group hugs. These were still the people that ignored me and teased me.
Project Social Integration kind of rolled over and died. Like an opossum, but not faking it. I dunno what I was looking for, but I didn't find much more than a few politely disinterested people who said 'hi' back to me whenever I forced myself to talk. It was great, I was really living on the edge of life for a while. Junior year I got my gift. This is where the half-assed god-complex comes in, because my gift was to give other people gifts. It took me a while to figure out what I was doing, but it all clicked after most of the people I talked to got gifts too. Even animals, though the animals more mutated than gained gifts. (I think there are still a few pigs with wings floating around my hometown. And my cat ended up with color-changing fur and a forked tail. Sorry Snowball.) At first I thought it was really great because I could make myself an army of mutated animals. Stuff like lions that breathed fire and venomous hamsters. I never got farther than daydreaming about my army because, after I thought about it for a while, I wouldn't know what to do to an army. In addition to that, I didn't really like mutating animals on purpose. No matter how much I told myself that I'd turn a stray cat into a lion I couldn't do it because I felt like I'd be forcing it into a life it didn't like and that it'd be kind of unfair. I was to determined to remain the good guy. (The deciding factor was that I didn't know how I'd get the mutated animals to form an army anyways. Loyalty isn't in genes.)
After my parents saw what I'd 'done' to snowball they freaked out and sent their poor sick son to Havens. I guess they thought that I'd be happier there. I didn't argue because it would have been pointless to stay where I was.
Right, I've got to say what I look like. I've got brown eyes, really pale skin, and kind of long black hair that's always in my eyes. I'm tall and really skinny and a bit sick looking because I never sleep and I only eat stuff that's 'junk'. I have a thing against sweats because they look stupid and I really like white shirts and black pants. Grey's good too. On a side note, I'm seventeen.
