Post by JADEN KENNETH BASETTE on Mar 15, 2010 19:26:12 GMT -5
FULL NAME: Jaden Kenneth Basette[/blockquote][/font]
NICKNAMES: Jay bird
AGE & BIRTHDAY: eighteen. December 9th
HOMETOWN: Cincinnati, Ohio
ILLNESSES: Schizophrenia
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
MEMBER GROUP: Senior
“I‘ve been told I‘m schizophrenic. But I was told that because it was the closest thing the doctors had that fit my description. The thing is I‘m not really “flat” emotionally, just slow to empathize. But the break down is, I see people for what they really are. What do I mean? Okay I can see if you are an angel or a daemon or in between or whatever. I guess you could say that’s why I don’t get too close to people. Because you see the daemons like to cross-dress. Yeah, they want to be angels so that you’ll trust them. And boy has that fucked me over.[/blockquote][/font]
Deamons play tricks, they want to watch you suffer, and the angels are really hard to come by. So far I’ve only found a handful of them and never has one been mine. The angels have white wings and halos. I say halo, but it’s more of glow around someone. Aura? Sure that. And yes angels can have sex and do shit. Why the hell not? I mean it’s one of the deepest forms of affection. Sure it’s a but thrown out the window now. But it still is love in cases. And the daemons well they have wings too but they are like rotten angel ones that are all reddish and black. They also get ugly when they are mean. And of course they do all the fun stuff to it’s just the control they lack.
No I don’t see myself as anything. Guess I’m a bit undecided in that sense. I’ve done too many bad things to be an angel and I’m not bad enough to be a daemon. I’m over sexed and have done drugs but that has never made me a druggy. Well I guess until recently but these bloody meds aren’t my fault. It’s what you fuckers say are to counter my symptoms. I don’t have a fucking cold okay. And for the record they don’t do shit but make me drowsy and irritable. So I’m a lot meaner than I want to be. I see myself, normally as nice and too much of a romantic. But looks like that got fucked again. Now I’m just a snippy jack ass.
As for any other problems? I guess I have a high possibility for lung cancer? I’ve smoked since I was thirteen. And I don’t really plan on stopping because you tell me to. At lest I know I have an addiction okay.
NAME/ALIAS: Mr.Alice[/blockquote][/font]
AGE: 19
EXPERIENCE: about a decade
TIMEZONE: Mountain times
ANYTHING ELSE: herro
There in the corner on a bench. Just like everyday. Or so it seemed everyday that is were he ended up. But it very well could have just been this day was dragging on longer than all the others. Or it could have just been another room with a different corner. All the rooms were so painfully drab and similar. That must be how everyone felt in here, or at lest the ones that still had half a brain that could still distinguish time and place. But who would need to distinguish time in such a place as this? Two years could be two days and it would make a difference, he would still be “clinically insane”.
Aubry just sat there still in that corner were time seemed to merge into itself. But he was most cretin this was the first time he had actually sat in that particular corner it was just today was duller than the other’s some how. So he sat staring at a small cut on his had just below the small bird that was printed on his skin. It oddly looked like a worm. “Looks like you have some lunch little blue bird,” the boy whisper, words coming out thick.
The bleach blond then sighted letting his hand go limp and his dark brown eyes looked over everyone. It was strange to be in the gymnasium. Somehow the atmosphere was different. Probably because there was actual privilege that went with being in that room. First you had to actually know what you were doing. And I guess it was a place for aggressive people. Aubry wasn’t actually that aggressive, he was too small to hurt most people actually, or so that is what he knew most of the staff thought. Who would think a boy of 5’5” and 120lbs. Could actually do much damage? But the guards that dealt with him knew better. It looked like today was a day that the staff thought Aubry should get out some aggression so that another episode like last night wouldn’t happen.
He stood and stretched placing his hands on his hips and looked at everyone and what they were doing. He could run, play some basket ball, swim, lift weights, but Aubry didn’t want to. He hated how he was given a schedule and could only be in certain rooms when he was told to be and forced in other rooms when he didn’t want to be there. Much like this room on this day. He figured he would make the best of what he could. Maybe if he showed some major improvement with his mood they would allow him his water colours back. That’s really all he wanted to do, sketch and paint. That’s all there was that was enjoyable anymore.
Aubry started to walk around the room now, taking a mental run threw of who was occupying the roo at the time. Some he knew better than others. Then he came upon Absiddy. Aubry didn’t really know him too well. Sure he had seen the boy before, they did enter the asylum around the same time if he remembered correctly. And if anyone Absiddy seemed the most mentally stable so far. But he was part of a small group of the most dangerous inmates.
He stopped walking then just studying the other male. It was odd that Aubry had never talked to Absiddy. He could always blame the Antisocial Personality Disorder, but that was just an excuse. In his twenty years of living he had always let that particular trait of his get in the way. And maybe this could be a way of getting his stuff back. He could talk to Absiddy and be friendly showing that last night was just a flook laps back and they would give him his art back. He let the smallest smile creep up o his face and started to carefully walk towards the other that was easily ten inches taller than him.
“Hello there…um, you’re Absiddy right?” He spoke confidently despite his lack of tact when putting the words together. Aubry sometimes forgot how long he would go without speaking in a normal tone. Most of the time he spoke in whispers to Dante. Only the once a day requirement for therapy made him keep a constant social tone of voice.
He stood about a foot away from the other so he wouldn’t feel so overpowered. His dark eyes watching Absiddy’s movements and a thin, feminine hand tugged at the sleeve that covered part of the artwork that would permanently show who Aubry was.
Aubry just sat there still in that corner were time seemed to merge into itself. But he was most cretin this was the first time he had actually sat in that particular corner it was just today was duller than the other’s some how. So he sat staring at a small cut on his had just below the small bird that was printed on his skin. It oddly looked like a worm. “Looks like you have some lunch little blue bird,” the boy whisper, words coming out thick.
The bleach blond then sighted letting his hand go limp and his dark brown eyes looked over everyone. It was strange to be in the gymnasium. Somehow the atmosphere was different. Probably because there was actual privilege that went with being in that room. First you had to actually know what you were doing. And I guess it was a place for aggressive people. Aubry wasn’t actually that aggressive, he was too small to hurt most people actually, or so that is what he knew most of the staff thought. Who would think a boy of 5’5” and 120lbs. Could actually do much damage? But the guards that dealt with him knew better. It looked like today was a day that the staff thought Aubry should get out some aggression so that another episode like last night wouldn’t happen.
He stood and stretched placing his hands on his hips and looked at everyone and what they were doing. He could run, play some basket ball, swim, lift weights, but Aubry didn’t want to. He hated how he was given a schedule and could only be in certain rooms when he was told to be and forced in other rooms when he didn’t want to be there. Much like this room on this day. He figured he would make the best of what he could. Maybe if he showed some major improvement with his mood they would allow him his water colours back. That’s really all he wanted to do, sketch and paint. That’s all there was that was enjoyable anymore.
Aubry started to walk around the room now, taking a mental run threw of who was occupying the roo at the time. Some he knew better than others. Then he came upon Absiddy. Aubry didn’t really know him too well. Sure he had seen the boy before, they did enter the asylum around the same time if he remembered correctly. And if anyone Absiddy seemed the most mentally stable so far. But he was part of a small group of the most dangerous inmates.
He stopped walking then just studying the other male. It was odd that Aubry had never talked to Absiddy. He could always blame the Antisocial Personality Disorder, but that was just an excuse. In his twenty years of living he had always let that particular trait of his get in the way. And maybe this could be a way of getting his stuff back. He could talk to Absiddy and be friendly showing that last night was just a flook laps back and they would give him his art back. He let the smallest smile creep up o his face and started to carefully walk towards the other that was easily ten inches taller than him.
“Hello there…um, you’re Absiddy right?” He spoke confidently despite his lack of tact when putting the words together. Aubry sometimes forgot how long he would go without speaking in a normal tone. Most of the time he spoke in whispers to Dante. Only the once a day requirement for therapy made him keep a constant social tone of voice.
He stood about a foot away from the other so he wouldn’t feel so overpowered. His dark eyes watching Absiddy’s movements and a thin, feminine hand tugged at the sleeve that covered part of the artwork that would permanently show who Aubry was.
