|
|
Post by Iridescent on Jun 28, 2012 2:28:24 GMT -5
|
|
|
|
Post by Iridescent on Jun 28, 2012 2:53:57 GMT -5
 Name /: Jacob Vincent Wheaton
Age /: Eighteen
Species /: Nephilim
Gender /: Male
Classification /: Shadowhunter
Parabatai /: Gallifrey Nightburrow
Sexuality /: Heterosexual
[/color] a p p e a r a n c e /: [/b] When I look in the mirror, it is not my own reflection that I see staring back at me.[/i] Not the shining blue eyes that bore into my soul[/i] like two opals abandoned in the middle of the largest desert, isolated and trapped in nothing but dirt. You can feel the hot wind blowing over the vast space of land that is desert I wonder if deserts are really hot, or people just make that up to stop people from going there, but it would be the perfect place for me to run and run and never stop.[/color] You can feel the sand shifting shapes, distorting the bodies to create elaborate patterns in the sand. Amongst the sand storm, the two beads of ice remain frozen, silently watching. Those pools of crystal clear water apparently more than half of the world is covered in water, and more than half of our bodies are made of water too, but then whenever I’m drumming, why do I never feel the water inside of me sloshing around like a hurricane?[/color] may as well be floating in nothing but pure air, for when I see my reflection in the mirror mirrors are basically glass, yet when you look into a simple glass that you would drink out of, the reflection you see there is distorted and shimmering like waves in the ocean, moving with the tide in short, rapid bursts of energy as they continue to power on without rest[/color] I do not belong there.
Searching eyes follow the figure in the looking glass frantically, seeing only the slightest of dark brown hair tufts peeking slightly above the blue eyes of the monster. I don’t believe in monsters anymore, because if they were real then we would only have more to protect, and the only monsters I see these days are the demons, but they move so fast that it only makes me thrive to move faster, the drumming becoming more and more incoherent with each thundering step I take. Momentary glances are all that I have the time for, before moving on to the big picture, but that is all that is needed in a world where appearances simply do not matter. Rather than the solid frame of my body, meant to endure pain, or the callused hands from repeatedly drumming for hours on end I can’t help it, all I do is drum and drum, if not at my drumkit then on tables, chairs, any inanimate object, and I can’t even stop it, not like I would want to stop it but apparently it’s not good, apparently there’s something wrong with me, but there’s not, I know there isn’t[/color] I can overlook it all without a second glance. The first impression is all that matters.[/i] You do not have to be the most attractive looking person in the world to get by in this life. I know that, and I’ve learnt it the hard way. I had never been the most good-looking growing up because growing up goes by in such a blur and sometimes the only thing that I can make sense of in the rush of emotions and magnificent colours with never-ending swirls is the fact that everything in life is meant to go faster and faster until they can no longer and are at the point when the world appears as a hurricane amidst a raging storm, streaks of lightning bolts staining the sky with horror at top speeds that never slow[/color] but when you have so very little,[/i] one more thing to add to the list of disappointments is not going to break you. It’s alright, though. I’d rather find beauty in the vast world around me beauty in the fast paced motions of a bird’s wing fluttering with the breeze as its tiny heart beats with each swift movement, drumming, drumming, blood flowing through the heart, throbbing, throbbing uncontrollably[/color] than in myself. I guess that is why the mirror is so deceivingly bare.
I cannot keep still. It is trained in me that I will forever be moving, drumming, running, tapping,[/i] just doing something. When I look into the mirror, I do not even see my reflection there. I do not see how the rest of the world gets to see me on a daily basis. All I see there in the glass is shimmering lines, moving like waves being thrown around in the vast ocean. The lines cross over my silhouette, making it almost impossible to make sense of the finer details in my appearance. But that is only to me. The shimmering lines do not move, but quaver more and more with each shaking breath, and my mind races so fast that everything becomes a blur, because simply standing still in front of the mirror makes me nervous and sends hyperactive pulses from my brain and projects them, magnifies them for only me to see[/color] and the mirror suddenly seems like the most useless necessity that I could ever need. Not even a small hand mirror would do, because my hands would shake so very much without ever tiring as the simple patterns are drummed out onto the mirror’s edging from the tips of my fingers[/color] but I do not even need a mirror, really. It is only a reminder of what a mess I am.[/i] The world is rippling, a river of water, clear as crystal, making it impossible to see what lies beneath the murky surface of my imagination. With the flow of the waves, the shimmering lines play a spitting image to the ragged scars crossing over my hands and legs, if one was even interested enough to look for the flaws.So these are the figurines
Acting out all the scenes before my eyes
I thought I knew them all by name
But they started looking much the same
And it's no surprise [/i][/color] p e r s o n a l i t y /: WIPThat I don't wanna listen too much
How can I give up on all the days
I know I've won
There's nothing but rainbows
I believe in the shadows [/color] h i s t o r y /: WIPNow honey, thought I might be dropping out But now I'm gonna work it outI'm gonna work with meI'm running like another loserThen I'm rolling like a rusty ship on a stormy sea[/i][/color][/center] s a m p l e - p o s t /: WIPYou know that people are saying
Strange things
Talk to the hand
'Cause I know you think
The face is gone [/color] o t h e r /: PLAYBY[/b]-[/color] Spencer SmithSONG[/b] -[/color] Blue Skies by JamiroquaiCOLOURS[/b] - [/color] Taken from the palette "Mockingwind"I don't wanna listen too much I'm not gonna give up on all the days I know I've wonThere's nothing but blue skyThere's nothing but blue skies[/i][/center][/color] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size] |
|
