Post by mai on Aug 21, 2011 22:45:30 GMT -6
VanceLeeBravesinger
“Well, tell me a little about yourself. What’s your name?”
Yeah, my name? Uh, Vance. Vance Bravesinger. Don’t ask me about it, just look at me and draw stereotypical conclusions. I guarantee you won’t be far off…
“Next question, how has your High School career gone thus far?”
…career...? Uhm, yeah…the two years I spent in high school were…educational…and…productive? Look, to be honest, I don’t remember much of what went on. My mom says it was the excessive weed, dad says it was the pretty girls. Me, I say it was my unwillingness to remember. I made the choice to not be there mentally, so now when people try to get me to recount things from those years, they get a response like this.
“What did you do when you weren't in school? Any hobbies or sports, anything like that?”
Uhm, sure. Skateboarding was my primary source of transportation for like four years or something. That’s a hobby, right? I was willing to hang out wherever other people I was with wanted to hang out. I’m pretty chill—I just go with the flow. Life’s too short to try to be in control of it, you know what I mean? Uhm…I like looking at pretty girls I guess? Whatever your average teenage guys does, let’s just say that. Only with less zeal…
“Family and friends are pretty important. Tell me about them. How are your relationships with them?”
Wait, are you telling me that they are important? Okay…I have a mom, a dad, an older brother, and a younger sister. My brother’s in his first year of college and my sister is either eleven or twelve, I forget. They’re alright I guess. I’m nothing like my siblings. I give my parents the hardest time—somehow…I don’t even get it, I never get caught or in trouble. Whatever. I guess you could say they care about me. I wish they’d raised me to care about me.
As far as friends go…I get em and lose em, but either way I’m not really phased. I don’t cherish friendship like most saps. I’ll be a good friend whether you are or not until you decide to ditch me for someone else. Whatever.
“Thank you for sharing that with me. So those are your family and friends, what about yourself? Describe yourself to me.”
Dude, I’m really done with talking about myself. I’m done with talking in general. Ugh…okay, let’s see: me. I’m six foot, one-hundred and seventy pounds…I have hazel eyes and black hair…my skin is dark but not black…I’m muscular, I guess. Uh, I hardly ever get mad or sad. Unemotional, that’s what they call it. Yeah I don’t do tears or loud noises. Not even music, so you can take that assumption off your paper. I’d rather not talk. I talk a lot when I’m nervous. I’m not nervous now; I’m just answering your questions. I hate money. I like interesting girls—not crazy ones. I’ll tell you what’s on my mind and I hardly ever lie. I really don’t like talking about myself.
“Other than the reason you’re here at Blackwood Academy, have you had any other issues with law enforcement?”
What do you want me to do, brag about what I’ve done? Whatever, dude. I’ve been given multiple tickets for skateboarding without a helmet. The police have caught me with weed and homemade drugs. Big deal.
“What is the worst thing you’ve done? Why did you feel the need to do that?”
I did everything small except once and now I’m here because of it. A friend of mine, Bobby, who smoked with me all the time decided he would move on to the next world. He overdosed on some pills, don’t ask me to tell you what kind, and sat there next to me on the couch to die. The process was taking slow and for some reason the meds began to hurt him. He had awful pains. He told me where a gun was in his parents room and asked me to shoot him. I told him hell no, I wasn’t going to murder him. If he wanted to commit suicide it’s his own shit but don’t drag me into it. He said he didn’t have the energy to get the gun…so I got the gun for him. He shot himself in the mouth. I don’t lie, so I told the truth, and apparently I committed a victimless crime. What was I supposed to do, try to convince him to live in a world that neither of us see a point to? No. I told you I’m loyal to my friends. He asked me to do something and I did it.
"What’s the one thing you're most proud of?"
With parents who sent me away, siblings who never write or come to see me, and the weight of a world I don’t understand or really want to be a part of on my shoulders, I’m proud that I haven’t done what Bobby did…yet.
"Other than your trouble with law enforcement, do you have any vices or addictions?"
I need cigarettes. If I can get my hands on weed I will. I’m not hooked to any drugs, but like weed, I’ll do them if they’re around. I don’t drink, that shit’s bad for you.
“If you could change one thing about your life what would it be?”
I’d put someone in it who cared and cared enough to stick by me through thick and thin. That, or I wish I would have done more crazy shit than I did since I’m ending up in a place like Blackwood anyway.
“What criminal act got you sent here and who recommended it?”
The same act that I already told you was my worst. I helped someone commit suicide. Sending me here was probably a community decision, but it was my mom who really pushed it. I guess she wanted me out of her hair.
“Do think that you deserve to be here?”
I mean, I guess so. They say I do and they can tell me why, it’s not as if they’re hiding things from me. I’m just existing—where I do it doesn’t seem to matter to other people so I won’t let it matter to me.
"Tell me about your life before Blackwood Academy contacted you, what led up to your stay here."
Shit, man, really? I’m done with this.
I used to be a typical good kid, back when my young age lent me a naivety that made everything colorful. Then I grew up. It was in sixth grade when I was eleven that my eyes were opened to the state of the world we’re in. At first I was a big cry baby about it. I cried when natural disasters killed thousands of people. I cried when I saw TV commercials about African orphans. All that stuff made me cry. I wanted to do big things and change the world.
I realized that I’m nothing but an ant. I exist and then I die and nothing more can be said about that. I lost hope in life and so I turned to the exact thing everyone tells kids not to turn to. I started with simple things like sniffing markers and paint and stuff like that until I felt light-headed. Then I got my hands on weed. Then I was exposed to drugs. Throughout middle school, while girls are starting their periods and most boys are growing pubic hair, I was smoking joints and popping pills. This isn’t a sob story. It’s reality.
I know my mom cried in the early days. My little sister rejected me, and my older brother tried to be supportive but didn’t really care enough to follow through. My dad was just disappointed and shook his head at me all the time. In the beginning I would try to stop, wishing for the veil of ignorance I had once had…but it never came back. I guess I didn’t try hard enough.
Last Name, First Name, Middle Initial: Bravesinger, Vance, L
Race: Native-American
DOB and Age: March 17, 1994—17 years
Age admitted to Blackwood’s Academy: Admitted at 16—one-year resident.
Grade: 11th
Health issues: Diagnosed depression, lactose intolerant
Other: Vance is suspected to have at least one personality disorder, but it had not yet been placed. The most likely one would be Borderline Personality Disorder.
Race: Native-American
DOB and Age: March 17, 1994—17 years
Age admitted to Blackwood’s Academy: Admitted at 16—one-year resident.
Grade: 11th
Health issues: Diagnosed depression, lactose intolerant
Other: Vance is suspected to have at least one personality disorder, but it had not yet been placed. The most likely one would be Borderline Personality Disorder.
Your name: Mai
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Code word in the Rules: ADMIN EDIT
Play by: Thomas McDonell
This Application was created by JEZ! A.K.A Two.Last Words. Do not steal or remove credit. Or I will sick my doggy Drako on you. He enjoys biting the butts of others so BEWARE!
