Post by delilah on Jan 16, 2012 19:35:59 GMT -5
DELILAHMARAGRAY !
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RAINBOW SHIRTS RIBBED IN ACID LOVE
[/color]OUR LIVES ARE RIBBED IN PLASTIC LOVE, HERE I AM, HERE I AM, IT'S NOT JUST YOU
SHE LOVED ME TOO, HERE I AM, HERE I AM, IT'S NOT JUST YOU, SHE LOVED ME TOO
HERE I AM, HERE I AM, GONNA TAKE YOU[/center][/FONT][/SIZE]
nicknames: Leila
age: Eighteen
gender: Female
grade: Senior
sexuality: Straight
played by: Anna Christine Speckhart.[/ul][/SIZE][/FONT]
TO THE END OF TOMORROW, I WILL TAKE
[/B][/color]YOU TO THE END OF MY WORLD, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BELIEVE IN
MYSELF, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO RELEASE MYSELF, RELEASE MYSELF
IT WENT ON AND ON, IT WENT ON AND ON[/center][/FONT][/SIZE]
Brown hair and blue-eyed bombshell. She's gorgeous, there's no avoiding that, but she has no idea how to take care of herself. Rather, she doesn't care to. Her brown hair's a mess, her blue eyes always hazy. It's almost always obvious that she's an active user of drugs and alcohol. With bags under her eyes, you can tell she had little to no sleep. Her body is frail, so dangerously thin. Can you tell that she barely feeds herself?
Most of the time, one look at Leila and you would think she woke up clothed and tumbled out of bed. In the mornings, she's usually too hungover or tired to give two fucks on what she puts on. Plus, the usual bedhead is a nice touch. Although, on occasions when she's actually aware of what she's putting on, the outfit she can pull together is rather nice, considering she does have somewhat of a style -- which is tattered clothing, leather jackets, short skirts, and anything that would shout "REBEL". Or it could just shout "DRUG ADDICT". Either way, her clothing pretty much screams about what type of person she is. When she cleans up, for, say, special events, she cleans up nice. She also has a small tattoo of an outlined circle. Don't ask her why she got it, for she probably will never tell you.
personality:
rebllious, distant, self-conscious, carefree, sarcastic, outgoing, friendly, realistic, outspoken, careless, spiteful at times, stubborn, smart, lazy.
Leila is, to put it lightly, a mess. Insecure, abandoned. What else can she do but turn to alcohol and drugs? Because of her past (read below), she allowed drugs to overcome her life. So you can say that she just doesn't care anymore. Not caring about herself, not caring what happens to her, she just lets things be. She doesn't worry about the past, about the future, but how she is today. Because of this, her desire to live life to its fullest (in her terms) outweighs all her others.
Her idea of living life is to be rebellious, to deny all authority. "Hey, let's go do something crazy," is probably the phrase she says the most in her life. Leila is never satisfied with the norm; she has to make her life absolutely insane and filled with adventure to keep herself entertained. From tagging buildings, doing the routinely beer-run, and just straight up getting as high as her body allows her, she's always doing things according to her lifestyle. What are rules? Tell her to do something, and if that command/demand is against what she believes or wants to do, and she'll do the complete opposite. And then rub it in your face.
After years of heartless bastards, Leila has tried to detach herself from people in order to protect her heart. Year after year, she continued to build an iron fort around her fragile heart that had been broken too many times by numerous people, including her own mother and a father who had abandoned her. She tries not to get too attached to people, but most of the time she can't help it because after being broken for so long, she still trusts too easily. And she hates it. The last thing she wants is to get hurt again, so she tries to distance herself as a natural defense.
When Leila steps on a scale, the numbers say "102" but she reads the digital numbers backwards instead: "201". Ever since she was young, she suffered from the torment of various insults. Naturally, it scarred her. She grew up thinking that she needed to lose weight, to be beautiful. Oh, no she didn't care what people thought of her appearance; no -- not at all. But she cared about how she saw herself. Even now when she's insulted, she shields herself with her well controlled emotions whereas in reality, the insult just brings back handfuls of unwanted memories and unhealed wounds that she would never be good enough for anyone -- or herself.
She's outgoing, friendly, social. Considering she has no shame, she'll approach anyone, anytime. Not considered a book smart girl, a better term would be to name her a "cultured intellectual". She ponders, she wonders, she thinks. She studies? No, never. Aye, Leila is a smart girl, but she has no motivation, no want to push herself to her educational and intellectual limits. She's rather sarcastic, has no sense of what's too much and her sense of humor is quite demented, and curses like a sailor who stubbed his toe. Class? No, I can't say she has quite that. But personality? Quite.
likes:
- drugs
- alcohol
- partying
- going out
- adventures
- cats
- reading
- the smell of rain
- sex
- rock music
- solitude
- purple
- drawing
- water
dislikes:
- close-mindedness
- goody-two-shoe
- waking up
- feeling vulnerable
- relationships
- attending school
- work
- heat
- herself
strengths:
- meeting new people
- helping others have a good time
- listening
- drawing
weaknesses:
- opening up
- academic work
- relationships
- trusts too easily
- no patience.
[/ul][/SIZE][/FONT]
TO THE END OF TOMORROW, I WILL TAKE
[/B][/color]YOU TO THE END OF MY WORLD, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BELIEVE IN
MYSELF, I'M GONNA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO RELEASE MYSELF, RELEASE MYSELF
IT WENT ON AND ON, IT WENT ON AND ON[/center][/FONT][/SIZE]
father: Daniel Gray
siblings: None.
significant other (s): None.
pets: A tabby cat named Cpt. Sprinkles (Sprinkles for short)
hometown: Jacksonville, born and raised.
brief history:
Leila Gray's chimes of a laugh rang out underneath the blazing music as she took another swig of the bottle with neat white letters spelling "SKYY". She pulled out a packet of ecstasy and popped out a pill out of the plastic package. Handing the package back to guy she had taken it from, she danced recklessly with the stranger she would never see again. Jerking her head back to swallow the pill more easily, a slight moment of regret and hesitance flashed through her and she pushed the thought away. Such a pretty girl, doing such a dirty deed. How did she end up this way?
FLASHBACK.[/i] "Daniel, I'm p-pregnant," she whispered, stuttering in her sentence, automatically clutching her stomach. The silence that followed seemed to continue for years and Sara had to bite her lip to cease herself from crying out. Dead silence was all she heard for the next few minutes.
Suddenly he let out a drawn out sigh, putting his face into his hands and he was muttering to himself, words she couldn't make out. The only words she could make out were cuss words. After that, more silence. He took his face out of his hands and looked at her, giving her a steady look.
"I will follow you wherever you go, I will support you for whatever you do, and I will be in our baby's life." His eyes were filled with emotion, though Sara couldn't make it out. She was sixteen, for god's sake. She didn't know what to do with her life, but why would it matter now? Everyone had warned her that if she got pregnant before she graduated, her life was over. But was it? She had searched nights and nights after her test result came back for an answer, or some sort of hope.
But it didn't matter now. Daniel would stay with her -- hopefully. His eyes didn't lie, and she begged to the heavens that he kept his word. A life without him but with a child didn't seem like a possibility. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her for support, whispering in her ear that they could do this. And she hoped more than anything that they could.
TEN YEARS LATER. A young Leila peeks around the hallway to unravel where the shouting and crashes were coming from. Curse words, swears, and words too dirty to list here bounced along the hallway and straight into young Leila's ears, polluting and filling hatred into her mind. The sudden change of events provoked her, pulling her to the ground with frustration. "Stop yelling!" she choked out, tears racing down her cheeks. "Stop fucking yelling!" A door slam and he's gone.
"Mom?" little Leila asked her mom from her staindpoint, afraid to approach her. Silence. Trying again, she said louder, "Mom?" Silence again. Her mother stood and walked straight to her bedroom, tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving Leila to sit there wondering where her father had went.
Years had passed by in the matter of seconds. 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 years old. She could hardly remember the years that had flown by her. Without her dad, what was the point? It was quiet in the house, her mother barely talked to her -- barely acknowledged her. It was the same for her mom. Without her dad, what was the point? Her mom was a walking corpse; eating, breathing, sleeping just for the sake of being.
Leila started smoking, popping pills, doing anything just for the sake of sanity. But like everything in life, her secret from her mother didn't stay forever. Her mother discovered her packs of cigarettes, ounces of weed, her pills. Her sanctuary. And without a second glance, she kicked Leila out of the house and forced her to attend boarding school, rather than being home schooled. It's not like she was anything special to her mother anyway. It was like throwing out an old pair of shoes.
Though, it was the life, not living with her mom. Smoking, getting high in the comforts of 'home' without worrying about getting in trouble by her mother. Living with your friend, laughing, not giving a fuck about life. But Leila was lost. She didn't know what to do with her life, where to go and she was scared shitless about it. Where would she go after high school ended? She loved high school, so she failed it. She failed sophomore year just to get another year of it back. She wouldn't -- couldn't -- let go. Leila knew she was smarter than this; that she could acheive so much, but she had no plans, no idea what to do. So here she was. Living her life, taking blind steps, unsure where it would take her. But she didn't care if she tripped and scraped her knee. Because she was living in the moment. And that's what mattered. Right?[/ul][/SIZE][/FONT]
SAY, HERE I AM, IT WENT ON AND ON, IT WENT
[/B][/color]ON AND ON, LOUDER AND LOUDER, IT'LL BUILD AND FADE, AND SOON YOUR LOVE WILL TURN
TO HATE, SHE SAID HERE I AM, SHE SAID HERE I AM, LOUDER AND LOUDER IT'LL BUILD AND FADE
FADE, AND SOON YOUR LOVE WILL TURN TO HATE[/center][/FONT][/SIZE][/B]
other characters in jackson: none.. YET
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Sample:
A sudden urge to stand up and throw herself into the water to drown herself overwhelmed Leila as she sat in the warm sand. She couldn't believe how absolutely vulnerable she was making herself. Wanting to punch herself in the face as many possible times before her skull would break, she pulled her sunglasses off the brim of her hat and set it back on the nose of her bridge -- as if covering her eyes would take back everything she had said and would shield him from seeing her secrets through her eyes. Hoping Alex didn't notice how utterly weak she had felt, she gave a confident smile.
"I promise you that I'm not the first girl. I'm just the first girl who has the balls to tell you," said Leila, peering at him through her glasses. She had to make it up to herself somehow; Leila couldn't stand looking weak, looking vulnerable. It was the absolute opposite of what she was, of what she showed everyone she was. So why the hell was she showing it now? Blaming it on the cigarette, she brought it to her mouth one last time before throwing it into the sand and crushing it with her shoe. Making a mental note to pick it up to throw it away later, she let the last cloud of smoke breath out of her. Suddenly, the astonishing desire to punch herself in the face returned just after she finished crushing the cigarette. It probably looked like she had put out her cigarette in hopes of pleasing Alex, and not for Leila's own personal intention.
What the fuck is wrong with me today? kept bouncing along the walls of her mind for minutes and minutes until Alex suddenly took her hand, and the thought was replaced with What the fuck is wrong with him? She hadn't been expecting it, not in the least bit. Listening intently to the words he was saying to her, with a concerned look on his face, her insides began to melt. What he was saying to her was what she desired for as long as she could remember -- someone who didn't pity her, but still would listen. But now hearing her longing out loud, she hated herself even more. He had seen it, there was no avoiding the question if he had or not now. He had seen how weak she was being, and had offered help.
Not even blinking, she shook her head. "No, I don't need help," she said after a while, knowing that if she had responded too quickly, it would have sounded like a protest. "I'm better on my own. I'm probably just blowing everything out of proportion." Her heart jumped at the little lie, knowing she wasn't okay at all, and that she was actually downplaying everything. It was a good thing Leila was a good liar, because if she hadn't, he would have seen through what she had said, and realize that what Leila actually felt was hopeless. That Leila feared for her future more than anyone could ever believe. But no. No, he could never know that. No one could. It was a secret that she would bring to her grave.
"If I were an author, I'd make my cover ugly so no one would read my book," she said, but quickly added, "because I would write fucked up things that would scar every person who picked it up." Hoping to God that he wouldn't understand what she had meant, she gave him a toothy grin. Leila had meant herself, of course, and had hid it in the analogy of books -- which she loved dearly, but that was also a secret she did not like to share. Hardly anyone knew she loved to read, that she loved to curl up in the night by her lamp with a book tucked in hands. Only her roommates ever saw her reading, but not even they understood what books had meant to her. Nevertheless, Leila clearly meant herself when she described the situation of creating an 'ugly cover'. After all, Leila darkened her own cover so that no one would ever read the words, the secrets inside.
Getting back on subject, Leila merely nodded and paused before adding, "Yeah, I applied up at the bowling alley on Walkers street. Seems like an easy job, and they're hiring. If I don't get the job, I'll probably end up selling my body." She had been hesitant at first to apply King's Bowling Alley, because her first boyfriend, who she had lost her virginity to, had loved it. The word "bowling" reminided her of him, and she hated it. Leila wanted to forget him completely, to bury him in the very grave she buried her father in. She wondered if her father liked bowling.
Hearing him tell her how he never worked in his entire life, she felt slightly annoyed, the way she felt whenever anyone had told her something similar to this. Even some BHS students didn't work, they were too lazy and forced their parents to do everything, or whatever. Leila used to work every day, tried every way possible to scrape in money, and sometimes that wasn't even enough. To be fair, she did spend a good amount on illegal substances, such as marijuana and pills. Occasionally even cocaine when she had the money. Even then, she had earned the money herself, so she felt no guilt. "Yeah, it's pathetic," she smiled, because it was.
Her mind was still on the bowling alley, and Leila hated it. She hated thinking about him, but she did. All the time. It was stupid, it was two years ago, and yet she still did. What was he doing right now? The last she had seen him was when he left the town, heading for the big world and leaving Leila to contemplate her actions. Leila concluded a year ago that the only reason she still thought about him, and hated him, was because he was the reason why she was the way she is -- distant. And the fact still remained true. "Do you like bowling?" Leila asked, unsure of why she was even asking and then realizing that it could have been interpreted as her egging him on to ask her on a bowling date, which she did not want at all. Wondering how long she could withstand standing in a scorching field of fire which she would probably toss herself in after this embarrassment, she quickly tacked on, "Just curious, because I'd probably hook you up with the lucky bowling shoes if I got the job."
"I promise you that I'm not the first girl. I'm just the first girl who has the balls to tell you," said Leila, peering at him through her glasses. She had to make it up to herself somehow; Leila couldn't stand looking weak, looking vulnerable. It was the absolute opposite of what she was, of what she showed everyone she was. So why the hell was she showing it now? Blaming it on the cigarette, she brought it to her mouth one last time before throwing it into the sand and crushing it with her shoe. Making a mental note to pick it up to throw it away later, she let the last cloud of smoke breath out of her. Suddenly, the astonishing desire to punch herself in the face returned just after she finished crushing the cigarette. It probably looked like she had put out her cigarette in hopes of pleasing Alex, and not for Leila's own personal intention.
What the fuck is wrong with me today? kept bouncing along the walls of her mind for minutes and minutes until Alex suddenly took her hand, and the thought was replaced with What the fuck is wrong with him? She hadn't been expecting it, not in the least bit. Listening intently to the words he was saying to her, with a concerned look on his face, her insides began to melt. What he was saying to her was what she desired for as long as she could remember -- someone who didn't pity her, but still would listen. But now hearing her longing out loud, she hated herself even more. He had seen it, there was no avoiding the question if he had or not now. He had seen how weak she was being, and had offered help.
Not even blinking, she shook her head. "No, I don't need help," she said after a while, knowing that if she had responded too quickly, it would have sounded like a protest. "I'm better on my own. I'm probably just blowing everything out of proportion." Her heart jumped at the little lie, knowing she wasn't okay at all, and that she was actually downplaying everything. It was a good thing Leila was a good liar, because if she hadn't, he would have seen through what she had said, and realize that what Leila actually felt was hopeless. That Leila feared for her future more than anyone could ever believe. But no. No, he could never know that. No one could. It was a secret that she would bring to her grave.
"If I were an author, I'd make my cover ugly so no one would read my book," she said, but quickly added, "because I would write fucked up things that would scar every person who picked it up." Hoping to God that he wouldn't understand what she had meant, she gave him a toothy grin. Leila had meant herself, of course, and had hid it in the analogy of books -- which she loved dearly, but that was also a secret she did not like to share. Hardly anyone knew she loved to read, that she loved to curl up in the night by her lamp with a book tucked in hands. Only her roommates ever saw her reading, but not even they understood what books had meant to her. Nevertheless, Leila clearly meant herself when she described the situation of creating an 'ugly cover'. After all, Leila darkened her own cover so that no one would ever read the words, the secrets inside.
Getting back on subject, Leila merely nodded and paused before adding, "Yeah, I applied up at the bowling alley on Walkers street. Seems like an easy job, and they're hiring. If I don't get the job, I'll probably end up selling my body." She had been hesitant at first to apply King's Bowling Alley, because her first boyfriend, who she had lost her virginity to, had loved it. The word "bowling" reminided her of him, and she hated it. Leila wanted to forget him completely, to bury him in the very grave she buried her father in. She wondered if her father liked bowling.
Hearing him tell her how he never worked in his entire life, she felt slightly annoyed, the way she felt whenever anyone had told her something similar to this. Even some BHS students didn't work, they were too lazy and forced their parents to do everything, or whatever. Leila used to work every day, tried every way possible to scrape in money, and sometimes that wasn't even enough. To be fair, she did spend a good amount on illegal substances, such as marijuana and pills. Occasionally even cocaine when she had the money. Even then, she had earned the money herself, so she felt no guilt. "Yeah, it's pathetic," she smiled, because it was.
Her mind was still on the bowling alley, and Leila hated it. She hated thinking about him, but she did. All the time. It was stupid, it was two years ago, and yet she still did. What was he doing right now? The last she had seen him was when he left the town, heading for the big world and leaving Leila to contemplate her actions. Leila concluded a year ago that the only reason she still thought about him, and hated him, was because he was the reason why she was the way she is -- distant. And the fact still remained true. "Do you like bowling?" Leila asked, unsure of why she was even asking and then realizing that it could have been interpreted as her egging him on to ask her on a bowling date, which she did not want at all. Wondering how long she could withstand standing in a scorching field of fire which she would probably toss herself in after this embarrassment, she quickly tacked on, "Just curious, because I'd probably hook you up with the lucky bowling shoes if I got the job."
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this application template was made by LADY AND THE TRAMP !? of CAUTION 2.O
do not steal this template, or remove the credit, whatsoever.
also, out of respect, do not change ANYTHING at all.
lyrics credited to tegan and sara.
do not steal this template, or remove the credit, whatsoever.
also, out of respect, do not change ANYTHING at all.
lyrics credited to tegan and sara.
