Post by IZZIE BENJAMIN MABBITT on Apr 8, 2010 21:37:18 GMT
IZZIE B. MABBITT
LOOK AT US SHAKE THE SKY
PULLING THE WHITES FROM MY EYES
AND AS THE HANDS ARE SPINNING
THEY‘RE WAVING GOODBYE
A TEST FOR MORE, IS WHAT YOU‘RE STRIVING FOR
AS WE SLEEP, WE WALK
• • • • • • • • • • • •
HAI THURRR~ MY NAME IS MADDIE and I HAIL FROM EST! AREN'T YOU JEALOUS ;] YOU CAN CONTACT ME BY AIM, PM, OR YIM. OH, AND I'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR FOUR YEARS NOW!
• • • • • • • • • • • •
LOOK AT US SHAKE THE SKY
PULLING THE WHITES FROM MY EYES
AND AS THE HANDS ARE SPINNING
THEY‘RE WAVING GOODBYE
A TEST FOR MORE, IS WHAT YOU‘RE STRIVING FOR
AS WE SLEEP, WE WALK
• • • • • • • • • • • •
HAI THURRR~ MY NAME IS MADDIE and I HAIL FROM EST! AREN'T YOU JEALOUS ;] YOU CAN CONTACT ME BY AIM, PM, OR YIM. OH, AND I'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR FOUR YEARS NOW!
• • • • • • • • • • • •
[/b] Izzie Benjamin Mabbitt* / FULL NAME
* / NICKNAMES[/b] Iz, Rabbit, Ben, Bunny,
* / AGE[/b] nineteen
* / GENDER[/b] male
* / JOB[/b] ------
* / SEXUALITY[/b] straight, females only!
* / MEMBER GROUP[/b] artist
* / CONDITIONS[/b]
dyslexic;; 301...oh wait…103 this is so confusing!
bipolar;; need he explain to you? He feels up one moment, and down the next
sleep apnea;; oh sweet torture, he wants to fall back asleep, but his mind won’t let him.
slightly paranoid;; he must know everything about everyone, what they’ve done, and what they are doing
* / FACE CLAIM[/b] CRAIG EDWARD MABBITT
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
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[/b] reading (though hard), cutting, purple, bruises, self-mutilation, girls, drawing, friends, painting, flaws, perfection, explosives, singing, affection, playing with hair, and piercings.* / LIKES
* / DISLIKES[/b] complaining, smiling, himself, threatening situations, sex, drugs, inappropriate behavior, life, sad people.
* / POSITIVE TRAITS[/b] friendly, playful, easy to relate to, non-judgmental, loud sounds, charming, realistic
* / NEGATIVE TRAITS[/b] inflicts self harm, slightly violent, bipolar, blunt, anti-social, rude during serious moments[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
• • • • • • • • • • • •
[/b] Trigg Alley, Nome, Alaska* / HOMETOWN
* / PARENTS[/b]
Erick Mabbitt, (50) alive
Harriet Mabbitt, (40) deceased
* / SIBLINGS[/b] none
* / OTHER FAMILY[/b] none known
* / HISTORY[/b]
Sun for six months, night for eight, repeating for seventeen years, it was enough to drive a young man into depression, staring at the sunny sky after another failed attempt at staying asleep. But he was not suddenly nineteen, oh no, the young man had to have grown up from the womb and further out into the world. We’ll start with the beginning…
Izzie was born to a family of powerful drug abusers, the only child of his family, though the family was not kind to him as he had grown through clothing and cost money that they would rather spend drugs on. Especially his mother, who was constantly saved by the hospital for drug overdoses, she constantly screamed at him, even through infancy, saying that she would rather buy cocaine than have to spend thousands of dollars on him each year. She was far too absorbed into taking care of herself, that by the age of five, when he was to be enrolled in school, she had forgotten and passed out from a trip on the powdered substance. He sat at home, curious as to what the other children were learning, and headed out in hunt for the elementary, but was found by a police officer on patrol. The poor boy had gotten lost, traumatizing him quite a bit as he was brought into the truck and was dropped off at his home.
That day, he had picked up the book, a pad of paper, and a pen, and began reading, soon getting involved in many art-cultured things, sneaking money to buy acrylics and fine tipped paintbrushes of many textures. Being a somewhat skilled painter by age eight, and quite knowledgeable about things like literature and history. He could have been considered an artistic nerd, and would have been rejected by any popular child at school due to his mood swings and violent actions. Though his actions were commonly triggered by not being able to do something.
After learning many things, no matter how much his artistic mind despised the calculator, he knew that if the police officer would have come in and complained to his parents, that he would be safe and outside of the house, with a family that would have sent him to a school. But for now, he would settle to his mom coming in and screaming at him while he studied, ignoring her for the sake of multiplication and division.
Slowly, as he entered his teen years, the boy began growing depressed, glancing out the window a few times every day, and soon creeping out into the naked tree of dark brown, staring at the sun, or the moon when the months would a lot it. It was one brisk summer day that he decided to do some things about his life, sneaking on to the computer in the middle of the night and looking up many things on ways to end things, including getting out of here, by any means possible. Even if it meant giving up his life would be what would get him out. He soon began testing overdoses, and tried to take a bottle or two full of aspirin and tried falling asleep, but couldn‘t stay asleep to intense stomach pains, and lost what he had tried to keep down. He then slipped into far more dangerous acts; he began cutting, and even cut himself out a few tattoos, embedding ink into them. Not that his parents cared… which is why he snuck out one night and got his lips pierced eventually, finding the pain was exhilarating and new, especially since he bled in the act, and could taste it dripping down the back of his throat.
He felt as if he deserved pain, as it became a part of him, he couldn’t live without it, and soon ended up on the bathroom floor for a day or two as he bled, watching and painting in it with fascination until he passed out, waking up the next day with a bandage around his wrist stained red. Perhaps his father, a figure that was rarely in his life, did care for him a bit. He confronted his father, but at the wrong time, as his mother came into the room and saw all the scars on his wrists and thought something was horribly wrong with him. She began screaming at him, and that, sadly, was the first time that she had beat him, kicking him into a corner and slapped him quite hard, it left an impressionable mark for a decent week, scratch marks and all.
Soon enough, he began cutting and relishing in the fact that it was far better than his mother‘s abuse, but when his mother had hit him one day, it struck a cord and he had met his final straw. Grabbing the scissors he cut with, he began to cut off the fingers that seized his hair not moments prior, hearing her screams of protest, but would not listen. One by one, he successfully removed her fingers, and then left her bleeding on the floor of his room. She died by his hands, but he didn‘t really care, she wasn‘t involved in his life other than creating bruises…which he found strangely fascinating. Without her aid, he began to abuse himself, disposing of her corpse in the backyard (carelessly, mind you) and continued his work, tattooing himself in various areas, paying particular attention to his arms and hips, and decided that it was time to actually step out into the world.
The screams had alerted a few people, but by the time they had arrived, Izzie was gone and his father was fast asleep, no evidence pointing to the man in bed, snoring, but he did get some jail-time for the amount of drugs in the house. Since the house was impounded, and the knowledge that the corpse in the back yard, and the father had a child, they began a search for what the man described as a child with brown hair and bright blue eyes. Neither were true, as he wanted his son to escape from Nome, Alaska, and his horrid family. His father, Erick, was not proud of his decisions, but no matter what he tried to do, his mother had lured him back into the world of drugs like a temptress from hell. The cops had searched for weeks on end, giving up two months into the investigation as they found no trace of a boy that the man had described…
Izzie however, was safe and sound in an abandoned shack, he had repaired it well enough, and cut wood in a forest, creeping around town at night, getting into people’s houses, taking food, money, and newspapers, hunting through the ads for possible side jobs, but found none that sparked his interest. Slowly, he continued painting, and when an art show came in through town, he went to it and submitted his art. He was thirteen at the time, and they noticed this, staring at him in amazement and asked him of his history, getting a few surprised glances before they decided the best place that they could drop him in. A mental institution.
And his life continues on, from that age further on, until he could now call himself nineteen, following around and being as strong as ever… to this very day… and he’ll never truly die…[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
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THIS APPLICATION WAS MADE BY MIADAY PARADE AND IS FOR HER USE ONLY.
THIS APPLICATION WAS MADE BY MIADAY PARADE AND IS FOR HER USE ONLY.
