the eulogy i cant avoid

[gabster3]

VALKYRIE,
CALIFORNIA

[/color]
the ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?




There is no reasoning It's quite a silly thing But it's the way I've been for years So I will understand if you don't stay They say I'm great at first But then the magic fades Into an awful hue of dismal views And pessimistic attitudes
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WHEN THE OCEAN MET THE SKY ,[/color]
CHARACTER BASICS ,
you missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye[/color]

FULL NAME: suri noelle morrison-novak
NICKNAMES: "just call me suri"
GENDER: "last time i checked, i had a vagina"
AGE: "im 17"
GRADE: "junior year"
ART INTEREST: photography
PLAYBY: shenae grimes

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YOUR BODY MAY BE GONE ,[/color]
CHARACTER APPEARANCE ,
i'm gonna carry you in my head, in my heart, in my soul[/color]

ETHNICITY:

"i was born in iran. and if you have absolutely no idea where that is because your head is buried far up your ass, then i suggest you buy yourself a map"

HAIR COLOR:

"if you have a useful set of eyes you might notice that my hair is a nice shade of brown. i dont dye it and i dont have some inner desire of becoming a blonde, i dont care if that is the california girl look, i find it plastic"

EYE COLOR:

"again, your powers of observation are outstanding. if you must know, it all depends on the lighting in a room or outside. they are usually dirty green, but they can look hazel and brown from time to time. feel free to take a picture cause it will last longer"

HEIGHT:

"i stand at 5'7"

WEIGHT:

"ugh, i hate this question. i suppose is somewhere around 115. i gained a bit of weight these past few months"

BODY TYPE:

"what is that supposed to mean, body type? im petite and slim...or at least i like to think i am."

DISTINGUISHED FEATURES:

"i have a total of three tattoos, and the only thing i have pierced are my ears. i think piercings are fucking nasty and makes a girl look like a whore..there i said it"

PERSONAL STYLE:

"i guess you can that i like the bohemian look? i never really worry about style, i just like to feel comfortable with whatever i have on. i do like to look like a girl though, non of that tomboy crap."

OTHER:

"i cant really think of anything, but if something comes up, ill let you know"

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IN YOUR MOUTH, IN YOUR SOUL ,[/color]
CHARACTER PERSONALITY ,
the more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind[/color]

STRENGTHS:

painfully honest, very intelligent, fights for what she believes in, doesnt give up that easily and knows how to pick herself up

WEAKNESSES:

comes off as arrogant but deep down she is very insecure, has no filter between her brain and her mouth, she is bulimic and drinks too much, can be a self loathing hypocrite

LIKES:

photography, ice cream, music, movies, boys, smart people, alcohol, diet pills, driving, being right, jewelry, parties, traveling, books, nature, animals, family

DISLIKES:

idiots, unwanted hair, fat people, feet, speedos, animal cruelty, being bored, waiting for people, rehab, being told what to do, being wrong, smart asses, probably you

FLAWS:

cant keep her mouth shut, tends to push people away, stubborn, sarcastic, blunt, impulsive, addicted, rebellious, un-trusting

HABITS:

speaking her mind even when it doesnt concern her, bites her lower lip when nervous, plays with her food, trows up after every meal, drinks a little too much and takes diet pills

SECRETS:

suffers from an eating disorder and she is secretly a pill popper. acts incredibly strong, but deep down she is very fragile. most people dont know that her adopted parents actually bought her in iran, they figure its just a rumor but its actually true. she has cut herself a few times when angry or stressed, cause she really cant handle pressure as much as she pretends to

BEST MEMORY:

"definitely getting adopted"

WORST MEMORY:

"i dont like thinking about the first eight years of my life, but they were pretty shitty"

OVERALL PERSONALITY:

“LOL YOUR NAME IS SURI? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?” Yeah, fuck the fuck off, seriously. It’s a name. They all wind up meaning weird shit if you put the effort into researching them. Mine’s no different. It’s just slightly more upfront about the fact that my parents were total dipshits or my mom wasn’t completely off the excessive meds for popping an unwanted fetus out of her vagina before she decided on a name. I’ve been living for seventeen years. Ridiculously surprising knowledge when I’m a junior in high school, I know, but there it is. And I’m a ‘horrible, disgusting, infected reject’ of all things social. I guess nobody got that astounding memo that I don’t honestly fucking care? If anything, I’d say the ‘clique’ that I’m in is more my own doing than something that comes from the wise and knowing minds of the teenage population of the area. I want to be left alone. I like not having people think they can fucking relate to me because of some superficial bullshit that’s left us slapped with the same label. If the only way to keep the overwhelming amount of surrounding morons from annoying the shit out of me every second of every day is to be thought of as a complete and total reject, I’m always going to be just fucking fine with it. I’m not good with sluts, or stupid, or sports, or people who hype themselves up to be shit that they really aren’t- or people who hype themselves up in the first place, which is why this whole thing right here is completely fucking stupid. How the fuck do you get a good idea of who someone is by asking them personally? They’ll lie or embellish everything to make themselves come off as a pity-case or the epitome of perfection. Just sit around them for a few minutes and make your own judgment. It’s the only one you can trust anyways.

I see a lot about life in terms of winning and losing. Everything that you do, there’s always a winning side and a losing side. If you’re fighting with someone, the winning side is being right and the losing side is being wrong- the same goes for arguing. If you crap out, you lose. If you give up, you lose. If you let it go, you lose. I don’t do that. When someone says something holy fucking stupid, I don’t just let it go. I pick it apart as far as I possibly can until we’re at the point where I’ve clearly won. Maybe it’s me being stubborn, but I’ve never really been fond of losing. It’s not any more fucking ‘immature’ than acting like you’re the better person by shrugging things off and being a condescending asshole.

I prefer not hoping or believing in things over the whole false hope deal. If you keep yourself wholly convinced that everything is shit, it’s never a disappointment when it is. If you don’t hope that someone’s never going to let you down, you don’t end up hurt the second they fuck you over. If you don’t believe in God and all of the afterlife bull, you’re going to be expecting the worms crawling through your decaying eye sockets rather than thinking the whole time that any second now some all-powerful being is going to beam you up to Heaven. When you expect the worse out of everything going on and everyone around you, it’s quite frankly impossible to ever end up hurt. That’s what I do. Even with my people who don’t hate me, I don’t expect the undying loyalty bullshit. If they have a means to screw me over, I’m expecting that they’re going to. They don’t always have to have a reason and sometimes they’re getting something out of it, but everyone is going to fuck everyone else over if there’s even the littlest thing that they can get out of it. It’s human nature. You only get ahead by putting yourself ahead and it’s always going to be at the expense of someone else. If you don’t invest yourself in thinking that your best friend in the world would never do that horrible, horrible thing to you, then you’re never really going to mind when you end up being the ‘someone else’ in things.

I’m an asshole or a bitch or whatever you want to call it. I’m aware of it. I don’t deny it. And no, I don’t think it’s justified. There are probably thousands of people who have been through more shit that I can even think of going through and came through it all as better people than I’ll ever be. But I honestly don’t give a fuck. I am how I am and people don’t change, so there’s really no reason for me to bother. People always call me cynical, or a pessimistic bitch, but honestly, it isn’t cynical or pessimistic to look at the past and piece together an assumption based on that. That’s called being a realist, which is what I am. If some guy has been hooked on drugs and cheated on his past ten girlfriends, I don’t care how smoking hot he is or what he says to convince me otherwise, I’m not going to be the moronic girl who honestly believes that he’s changed and falls for him only to have him steal all of the money out of my purse, leave crack in my car, and fuck one or both of my siblings. I have a point, I fucking swear. But, it’s like the state of the world, or the opinion on people in general. History repeats itself, which obviously amounts to people being complete morons to keep making the very same mistakes, over and over and over again. Guys say they’ll never be like their abusive and alcoholic fathers and wind up being rampant boozehounds themselves. Girls say no, they’re going to be independent and amazing, they won’t be the idiotic trophy wife who relies on her asshole of a husband for the rest of her life, even after he gets ridiculously obese and can’t get it up anymore. And guess who they marry? Did you go with a fatass who emotionally abuses them and won’t let them get an actual job? Ding ding, you win the fucking prize. That’s the realistic way to look at things. People are inherently assholes. If they decide to change that little fact somewhere along the way, good for them, they’ve managed to make themselves an exception, but most people don’t and never will. When I meet new people, I don’t automatically have a wonderful opinion of them. I’m judgmental. I judge by their appearance, attitude, and the way they speak for whether or not they’re someone I want to waste my time getting to know. If you’re a moron, I’m not going to stick around for tea, and well, I’m honest enough to tell you why.

Emotions have never really been a strong point for me. Even when I’m not intentionally being an asshole to make you stay the hell away from me, I tend to come off as one. I’m not really the self-expression kind of girl. I was never that into art or theatre or anything else that involved me having to deal with large amounts of people. I do photography. It’s stupid and it’s pointless, but it’s still something. It’s not the self-expression shit either, really. It’s a picture. It’s an angle and a lighting and a certain degree of development and it’s going to get ripped up or fade to the point where you can’t tell what the fuck it is in a few years, but it’s still something and I take them anyways. I’m not an artist. The whole ‘artiste’, ‘this jar of mayonnaise means something deep and intellectual about the state of society today’ bullshit is something I’ve never understood and never plan to attempt understanding. I take pictures. That’s it. They’re not deep and meaning representations of what I’m feeling or who I am. They’re pictures. I do not do well with emotional shit and I don’t ‘use art to express myself’ or anything like that. Clear? Yeah. I’m more comfortable calling someone an asshole and elaborating on how much their nose offends me and the many reasons that I hate them than I’ve ever been with complimenting or friendliness. It goes both ways, though. I don’t like it when other people say that kind of shit or compliment me either.

Uh, in short? I’m a bitch, you’re an asshole, it’s never justified, we’re all human, and leave me the fuck alone?”

GUYS SAY:

“She’s a bitch. If I wanted to be called a future serial rapist or have someone tell me they were betting on me getting picked up on the next lice check, I’d try to talk to the cheerleaders. It’s not fair. She’s one of us too and she acts like she isn’t. She’d have so many more friends if she’d just pull that stick out of her ass and accept them. There was one kid, he’s a senior, Dakota, I think? He was just playing and throwing things at her freshman year and she got up and dumped an energy drink on him. I mean, come on, who does that?! I wouldn’t say any of this to her face, of course. She’s like… really mean. Like, seriously, have you met her? Sometimes you’ll see her with that art guy and you’ll think like maybe she’s changing and she’ll be nicer, but then while you’re watching, you’ll run into her with your lunch tray and she’ll kick you in the shin or something and start chewing you out and it’s like ‘omfg’. The worst part’s that she could totally be somewhere else, but she’s such an inconsiderate ass that she won’t do it. Like, I love it when I see her bitching out one of the higher clique kids, just not so much when she turns around and does the same thing to me. Eventhough shes hot, Im afraid shell bite my dick off”

GIRLS SAY

“Um, ew, social pariah much? She’s not even one of the good ones who grovel in hopes of bettering their social standing. Like, homg, she’s just a bitch. Not like, holy badassery scary, but I seriously bet that if I got close enough and just like, said something that she didn’t like, she’d go all like ‘RAWR’ and hurt me or something. Some people are all ‘well, she can’t be that bad.’ But then they actually like speak to her or something and it’s all ‘DUH, YES SHE IS.’ She obviously doesn’t know her place on the food chain. Like, she’ll even bitch out one fo the popular kids and it’s like ‘homg, seriously?!’. You just don’t do that if you ever want to be a somebody at this school. It’s sooooo ridic. I just like, don’t talk to her. Or look at her. I, like, sit on the other side of the room if we ever have a class together and pray so hard that we always get to pick our own groups. Homg, the teachers too, did I mention that? If they make a joke or something, one of those lame ones, or like, assign something that’s cheesy, she’ll bitch about it in class, like, to their faces. Who does that? I guess she’s supposed to be like, kind of smart of something, but she always has to stay after class on assignments because she writes bad words in them. Like, I would not be surprised if the entire school, staff included, all hated her guts. And it’s like she wouldn’t even give a shit about it. Like, she’d almost be happier if they did instead of talking to her. She is so judgemental and then she goes and gets in a car crash for being shitfaced and got her ass in rehab. Hypocrite much?”

MOMMY SAYS

“She’s a good kid. A little bitch sometimes, but a good kid mostly. She’s there for Mommy whenever Mommy needs her, always has been. I don’t like her attitude and I don’t like her smoking and I hate that she never tells me anything and never trusts my judgment, but I love her. And not just ‘cause I’ve gotta. And not just when I’m drunk. I dont regret adopting her, even if that caused problems with my marriage in the long run. She’s done a lot for me through the years, even if it’s all just been sitting there and keeping her mouth shut when I’m in one of those depression spirals. And I know she’s usually right, but I still wish she’d just shut her mouth and say ‘okay, Mom, he sounds great’ every once in awhile. And I wish she’d talk to her dad when he comes around. That’s why he keeps leaving, I know it is. Every time he comes back he says so, that he just wants a relationship with his kid and it’d all be fine, that he’s changed, and then she acts like a little bitch and sends him straight back to the bottle and out of our lives again. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the kid to death, but I’d love fixing my family and keeping my man a lot more. She’d love it to if she ever actually gave it a chance, but she’s been dead set against that since the first time he left. She never seems like she’s happy and I swear to God, ‘fuck’ is her favorite word. It’s ridiculous. I try to make her happy, to make us both happy. She just won’t cooperate with it. I’ve had so many guys in here who’ve said they’d love to have her as a daughter and then a few weeks around her and they’re out the door. They’re always really hot guys too. Hot guys aren’t just jerks who up and leave for no reason. There’s gotta be something driving them off. I think she might be a lesbian or something sometimes. Not that I wouldn’t still love her if she was. I just wish she’d tell me or something and stop scaring off my men. Okay, so maybe it’s not always her, but sometimes it has to be something. It can’t always be my fault. I just wish she was nicer and maybe they’d have more reason to stick around and maybe she’d actually be genuinely happy instead of just rolling her eyes at me and going to her room or only hugging me when I get dumped and won’t let go of her.”

DADDY SAYS

"Christ, that kid turned out fucked up. Glad I only have to deal with that bullshit for a few weeks every year."

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AND WE'LL BOTH GROW OLD ,[/color]
CHARACTER HISTORY ,
well i don't know, i don't know, i don't know, i hope so[/color]

HOMETOWN: born in iran, but raised in california
PARENTS: real parents dont matter. she was adopted by kurt morrison and caroline novak when she was eight
SIBLINGS: there are a lot of them, all adopted. te eldest one being santino, who is currently 24 followed by esmeralda, 22
OTHER: none
LIVING SITUATION: valks with her mother
HISTORY:

Deep in the forestlands of the magical world of Narnia, I was sired by a unicorn/werewolf hybrid. It was killed in a terrible plane crash shortly after my birth and the creatures of the forest raised me to feast on the weak, defecate on myself, and drink polluted water. One day, a priest and a rabbi were in the woods for a delightful camping trip. After much consideration on whether or not I ate pork, the priest took me to his convent where I spent the next few years of my life with nuns. I became a prodigy of sorts, making a harp out of the collectively plucked pubic hairs of every nun around. I then composed a beautiful classic work entitled ‘Please sir, May I Have Some Whore?’. It was a huge hit on pop radio and I was promptly ejected from the nunnery. I spent a year living in the dumpsters with a Mexican fellow named Jesus and a flamboyant homeless man named Yogi. We did cheap abortions with discarded metal clothes hangers. One day we had a two for one special. Then, Carlisle Cullen stumbled upon me when I was covered in someone else’s fetal blood. He’s a fucking retard, assumed I was injured, and turned me into a sparkling faggot. I changed my name to Edward when I grew the sparkling wand of copulation. I’m eighty years old now and spend my days hunting defenseless animals and my nights sneaking in windows to watch your preteen daughter sleep.

sigh

...I dont really want to talk about the people who gave birth to me because they dont matter. All they did was coulate and nine months later, there I was not this pessimistic back then. There was actually a time where I was a nice little girl, running around barefoot down the streets of Shiraz. Yes, I sufferend alot of abuse from my so called father. Do I really have to gve you all of the details? Well, I wont, so stop asking. Story goes that my parents came to Iran with food and water and they sw me and wanted to take me home with them. I am not 100 per cent sure but apparently they paid a good sum of money for me. I gues being a celebrity has its benefits. You can go to any country ad buy yourself a child. The story of my adoptive parents is actually far more interesting.

My mom’s name is Caroline Novak. Her family wasn’t a great one or an awful one; they weren’t rich, but they weren’t poor either. She was a teenager once and did some beyond stupid shit and they all stopped talking to her. I’ve never met any of them. She ‘fell in love’ at fifteen with an eighteen year old dickwad named Kurt Morrison. He knocked her up and she broke the wonderful news to her parents and found her shit thrown out on the lawn and the locks to the house changed in record time. Calling them didn’t do shit, knocking on the door didn’t do shit, and she was too much of a dipshit to bother doing anything else, so she whined and clung to Kurt for support. They shacked up and it was tons of great fun until the whole pregnancy thing really started kicking in for both of them. She was a hormonal fatass and he was rather fond of being that ‘so hardcore’ kid who stole beer out of his dad’s refrigerator when the parents weren’t home and showed off to other chicks. The kid was stillborn.

It was years after that they both moved to los angeles to become famous. dont ask me how it happened, but my mother stated acting and my dad started a band with his drug addicted friends. Pretty soon, they were famous and living the life they always thought they wanted. The only thing missing was a kid, and so it began the obsessive adopting. I swear, it was as if they were getting paid for it. Im not complaining though, it got me out of the dire situation i was in. Still, what appeared to be a happy home was actually pretty darn chaotic. Screaming and bitching and throwing little shit nearby and then Mom would apologize and revert to her naturally clingy-as-holy-fuck state of being. I dont remember every single one of the gory details, but they’re both fucking retarded, so I can assure you that it went a lot like: “Caroline, you’re fucking fat.” “Kurt, you’re a dick.” “You’re a fatass. I didn’t sign on to become a chubby chaser.” “GOSH, YOU’RE SO INSENSITIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” “Give me a beer and I’ll molest you later.” “Oh, okay. I love you.” They stayed together for whatever reason- obligation, guilt, retardation, take your pick.

I grew up a pretty normal kid. I was blunt, but it was cute back then. When it’s a kid calling someone fat, it’s hilarious and adorable, but when that same kid does it sixteen years later, she’s an insensitive fucking bitch. I’m still blunt. I kept to myself a lot. Not that I wouldn’t share my dolls and bit other kids on the hand when they reached for my crayons; I just preferred my own company to theirs. You never had to come to a consensus with another stubborn little douchebag when you were playing by yourself. When my parents took me to the park, I still swung and played and all of the other normal shit that little kids do at parks before parks are the locale for drug deals and mulch-y sex. I was just more the kid who shoved the other kids in the dirt and told them they were adopted than I was the kid who invited everybody to play with my cat shit infested castle in the sandbox. Other kids complicated the playing process and adults were more prone to cheek-pinching and belittling than taking anything about you seriously. When I did play with other kids, I was ‘too competitive’ and it never really lasted long before we reverted back to the whole someone pushing someone down on the ground and feeding them dirt scenario. So yeah, it was usually a pretty good thing when I kept to myself. I was never an ‘oh my good, don’t fuck with me because I’m so fucking badass’ kind of kid, but when I got a bloody knee or some shit like that from someone running into me or shoving me down, I didn’t just sit there and cry until someone came to help me up like ~a delicate little flower should. I made damn sure to get payback or revenge or whatever else. And when I didn’t get that because somebody pulled me off, I held a nice, long grudge until I got the chance.

The reason we moved to Valkyrie? Fame got the best of my parents? Actually they were tired of the bullshit. The stories about me being bought and all that crap and my mother didn’t want all her kids to grow up in that environment. I mean, I cant remember that much, but I do have the vivid memory of walking down the street and having a sea of paps clicking away, and screaming our names trying to make all of us turn our heads toward them. Its not every day you see a magazine and on the cover, there you are at eight years old with the headline “traffic baby”. Whatever, we moved away from that to this little town to seemingly start over. Got enrolled in school and lived my life like any normal kid would. Of course I always managed to get into a shitload of trouble which consequently resulted in my parents fighting even more and making my father reach the decision that he was better off in los angeles fucking some crack whore than being around us.

They did fight a lot. Not actual physical shit, but not just light arguing either. Sometimes they acted slightly normal, grocery shopping together or making out in the kitchen, but most of the time? Screaming, crying, and throwing shit. They had an anniversary party when I was eleven. He called her a slut at the reception and they broke three plates trying to dance drunk. My dress had really itchy lace shit on it and I got a rash around my left arm that didn’t go away for a week. I swear I spent the vast majority of my childhood in a permanent state of eye-rolling. When I was twelve, they were fighting on the front lawn and ending up with the cops called on them for a domestic dispute and public indecency because my dad Kurt wasn’t even wearing pants. Ah, the memories. It didn’t really matter most of the time, though. I wasn’t ‘emotionally scarred’ or any shit like that because my d- Kurt was an alcoholic and they were both fucking retarded. I was never all that emotional in the first place. Just like it wasn’t a huge hit of everything surprising when he walked out one day and actually took his shit with him. Because without an ounce of fucking fail, he always came back. Every ounce of money he earned went toward beer or lapdances or hookers or whatever the fuck else he was doing, but Mom always took him back. He left and she’d cry in her bed for a fucking week and keep me home from school so she’d have someone to cry to, but she still took him back every fucking time.

This time was a little bit different, but not much. He stayed away for longer than usual and she started dating another guy. Basically, he was Kurt as a ginger and minus the drinking. Mom thought it was a fuck of a lot more than it actually was at a week in and told him she loved him because she’s a clingy moron and he ran for it that night. It happened every time she found a guy, without fail. He was looking to shack up with someone and fuck, and she was looking for someone new to cling to because in her mind, it’s apparently better to depend on another person for everything than it is to be self-sufficient. And then he, whoever he happened to be at the given time, would run for his life and freedom screaming- only literally sometimes. At the end of every single one of them, she was back in her bed crying and I was playing the role of reluctant and usually begrudging caretaker and reception center for the painful amounts of drowning hugs. I don’t hate her. She’s mentally challenged in almost every possible way that isn’t outright drooling all over herself and participating in the Special Olympics, but that doesn’t mean I hate her. She’s still my fucking mom, you know? I’ve just never really respected her. It’s hard to even try when every few months, Kurt comes back or she gets with a new guy and pulls the same bullshit over and over again. Im so jealous of Sonny and Esme, cause they got out of this circus and found a place of their own. I wont ask them if I can move in though, cause I know im not the most lovable roommate

About six months ago, I was drinking and got into a car accident. That and they found diet pill in my purse. I do have an eating disorder, but I assure you it’s a family trend. Its not really that bad, I just like being in control of what I eat. I really could care less if guys like how I look in a bikini. So the justice system in this fucking place is so smart and they all came to the conclusion that I had a drinking problem and they sent me to rehab. 28 days my ass, it ended up being six months of therapy because my eating disorder and my lack of self worth is troubling to some. They also started coming up with mental diseases and crap just to make my stay in that hellhole seem reasonable. It doesn’t really matter now, cause Im out and back to school. I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I have to talk to the school counselor twice a week, which means spending some quality time in my brother`s office, so its not that bad.

My life is not rally that interesting, and Im honestly tired of talking about it so that’s all the juice you are getting.

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COLLECTED MY BELONGINGS ,[/color]
ABOUT YOU AND FOR THE ADMINS ,
and i left the jail, well thanks for the time[/color]

YOUR NAME: gabster
GENDER: female
AGE: 20
RP EXPERIENCE: 100 years
OTHER CHARACTERS: santino morrison-novak and maddox sutton
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:

check out santino

credit: format by lainey, lyrics by modest mouse

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[Anne Lévesque]

Oh Gabs, you and your characters <3 Well, she sounds awesome, and a total badass for sure. Not to mention Suri kind of fits in with her look. Everything looked great dear!

ACCEPTED *