Post by AndreiRhysBlair on Jun 23, 2011 0:32:58 GMT -6
Name: Andrei Rhys Blair
Age: sixteen
Sex: male
Orientation: heterosexual
I feel it deep within, it’s just beneath the skin
I keep it caged but I can’t control it.
[/right]Personality: Name’s Drei, not Andrei. I don’t like my full first name, it’s…weird. And a mouthful. Granted, I much prefer my middle name, but my twin sister—Jasey—is the only one I let call me Rhys. That’s it. Nobody else. Nobody else is special enough. I love my sister. She means more to me than anything—even more than drugs or sex or alcohol. Though…sex with her is amazing. Sex and drugs with her is even better, but she’s not as into drugs as I am. But I love her anyway, because she’s my Wenny. And I’m the only one that gets to call her that.
I’m shy. Wenny’s the outgoing one. Well. Maybe not shy, exactly, but I’m not the type to just walk up to people and start talking. Maybe it’s all the paranoia from drugs and such. But I just don’t trust people that aren’t my sister. They aren’t worth trusting. They’re going to tie me to beds and lock me in rooms by myself, and…I can’t stand being away from my sister. I need her.
It hurts when she goes and does things with other guys. Things I’ve done with her. But I love her, and I could never stay angry at her. I want her all to myself, but that’s hard to do. I hate it when other guys look at her with that look in their eye.
But it’s not like she’s all I think about. I think about drugs, too. And how it hurts to the point of almost blacking out when I haven’t had them in a while. It makes my hands shake like crazy when it hurts that bad. It’s hard to get a hold of drugs when you’re in an insane asylum, y’know? Like…they monitor EVERYTHING. Can’t they give us some privacy? It’s hard enough to find time to have sex when the docs ain’t around, but finding time for drugs, too? It’s ridiculous. I hate being in pain. Wenny tells me I’m weak, and I guess it’s true. I don’t have much of a pain tolerance. I’m an easy crier. I hate that about myself. Wenny is the only one I want to cry in front of. I know she won’t judge me. She loves me.
I’m not crazy fond of alcohol, but it gives me a good buzz when I can’t get drugs. It’s hard to get, too, though. I really like Rum and dark soda mixed together. Captain Morgan, to be specific. The spiced one.
At least we don’t have to go to school in this place. School was horrible. I always got bullied and beat up and made fun of. It was nothing too horrible, I guess… But it still hurt. That’s one reason I like drugs. It makes the pain go away.
Appearance: Five eleven is pretty tall, I guess. Almost six feet. My hair is [naturally] a dirty brown-ish blonde, and I’ve never been extremely fond of it. My eyes are green. It’s kind of neat, I guess. I like my eyes more than I like my hair. I’m pretty skinny; I don’t like it when my sister doesn’t eat, so I get her to eat by not eating myself until she does. It’s kind of hard on my body, especially with the drugs and alcohol, but it’s worth it to get her to eat. The doctors tried to make me eat at first, but I just threw it up. If Wenny starves, so do I.
I don’t like the clothes they gave me; they’re ugly and uncomfortable. They scratch against my arms and legs and they’re too hot in the summer. I prefer wearing my own jeans, because they’re broken in and they don’t scratch my legs. I like my shirts, too. They’re just band t-shirts or random ones I got at various stores, but they’re way more comfortable than the white clothes they gave me. I’m not a huge fan of socks, but I wear them in the winter because they keep my feet warm. In the summer I wear sandals or, if I have to wear tennis shoes, I wear them without socks. Blisters don’t bother me near as much as socks do.
I don’t wear hats. They’re just as annoying as socks.
Oh. Did I mention I dye my hair? I don’t like blonde. It’s not like I have a lot of blonde in my hair or anything, but I like it all brown better. A lot better.
I shave when I can, but sometimes there are other things that I would rather do. I never go more than two or three days without shaving, though; beards are weird. A little stubble isn’t horrible, but…more than that is gross.
Piercings: None.
Tattoos: Nothing.
You calm the poison, ease the suffering
when I'm afraid to feel again
[/right]Committed For: Drug trafficking and sexual addiction.
Duration of Stay: Until “healed.” Whatever that means.