Post by sunshine on Mar 1, 2010 6:21:13 GMT -5
- - - - - schuyler anthony maddox .
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WELCOME TO SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA. FIRST, WE NEED TO GET TO KNOW A LITTLE BIT ABOUT YOU. TELL US YOUR NAME, NICKNAMES, AGE, JOB, ETC.
" so the name is schuyler anthony maddox. you can call me schuyler, not ‘sky’ or any variation of that. if you haven’t figured it out yet, my name is pronounced ‘sky-ler’. yeah, i know it’s spelled funny. blame on my parents. my mom’s name is maaike…pronounced ‘my-cuh’ and if her name is any indication, she’s part dutch. so i got stuck with some weird ass first name no one can spell or pronounce. whatever. just remember. never sky, always schuyler. i’m seventeen years old and my birthday is april 14th…i’m almost eighteen, thank you GOD. i’m such an alcoholic and the legal drinking age in sydney is eighteen…you see what i’m getting at? if you didn’t, you must be fuckin’ blind. i’m a student and i’ll be starting year twelve of secondary school aka senior year in the states. fuck i miss the states, but that’s another story. yeah, whatever. next?"
NOW TELL US ABOUT YOUR LIKES, DISLIKES, AND JUST YOUR PERSONALITY IN GENERAL. WHAT KIND OF PERSON ARE YOU? BE DESCRIPTIVE SO WE CAN GET TO KNOW THE REAL YOU.
“ k so, i’m not sure where to start but what the fuck ever. i guess the best place to start is the fact that i’m a total charmer and ladies’ man. yep, totally am and i’m totally proud of it. i mean, really, here’s the thing. i like women. i like the company of women. i like sex. so, with a few well placed, honest smiles and tossing around the words ‘beautiful’ and ‘gorgeous’ i can get any girl i want in my bed faster than i can snap my fingers. it’s really handy; call me manipulative, call me a player, call me a jack ass, but i don’t care. hmm. i bet you’ve heard that i’m a drunk. i’m by no means an alcoholic…even though i’m on the path. okay. maybe i’m just in denial. i fucking LOVE alcohol; i get it whenever i can and i drink till i’m drunk. and i drink a lot. god, i can’t wait for my eighteenth birthday…i’m gonna get so shitfaced. it’ll be fantastic. i’ve been told that i’m a fun drunk. no, i’m not going to beat you. i’m just hornier than usual and i’m loud and i’m obnoxious and i fucking want to party. i love alcohol. like, yeah. i’m probably going to die before i’m thirty but hey, whatever. it’s my life. i’m kind of a dick if you haven’t noticed. i cuss like a sailor, i don’t give a fuck about your feelings, i’m selfish. yeah, that’s the word i was looking for. i. am. selfish. i’m in it for me. i’m extra nice to people who i know can get me somewhere and i could care less about people who can’t. i know it’s a ‘flaw’ or what have you…i don’t know. i like being selfish. save my ass then yours, that’s how it is. if you don’t like it, get used to it. and along those same lines, i tend to use people. yep. it’s bad. whatever. fuck you.
i guess i ought to tell you about the fact that i can, in fact, be a really nice person. no, really, it’s true! i can be nice when i feel like it and i can’t usually bring myself to be rude to people who are nice to me first. if someone really needs help, i’ll stop and help out if i’m not in a hurry. i do have a heart, much to people’s disbelief. i just don’t like to show it. i’m also a pretty big optimist…haha, i know, right. i just like to think that good things are going to happen all the time, but shh. you don’t know this.
i guess i should ramble about my likes and shit. i like sex, i like women, i like alcohol, i like pumpkin bread, i like america, i like the beach, i like summer, i like winning, i like being right, i like being the center of attention, i like rain, i like snow, i like beyonce, i like travelling, and i like the smell of fresh sheets. i hate dogs, i hate fucking sydney and being forced to live here in australia, i hate people expecting me to be in relationships, i don’t like love…love. i’ve never been in love. i’ve never said i love you. i pretty much don’t believe in it. think you can change me? i dare you. "
LET'S DIVE INTO YOUR HISTORY. NOTHING IS TOO PERSONAL. TELL US ABOUT WHERE YOU'RE FROM AND HOW YOU ENDED UP IN THE LAND DOWN UNDER.
" so my history. my parents are weston maddox and maaike davis and they were married for fifteen years. i’ll get to that later. anyway, i was born april 14th, 1992 in portland, oregon. i’m the oldest of three kids; i have a younger brother who is sixteen and a younger sister who’s fourteen. anyway, i lived in portland for, basically, ever. yeah, i lived there from age zero to age sixteen so woo fucking hoo. anyway, shit started happening when i was sixteen. remember how i said my parents were married for fifteen years? yeah well they were married from when i was a year old to when i was sixteen. see, they started fighting a lot when i was like, fourteen, and after that it just got worse and worse to the point where they finally were like, FUCK IT and got a divorce. mom stayed in portland and dad moved to sydney, where he was originally from or something. i don’t fucking know. anyway, i guess i was all shocked or something from the divorce and mom really started cracking down on me and my partying ways since i’ve always been a partier. she finally got sick of it after i came home completely blacked out drunk and was puking everywhere and told me that i was going to live with my dad in aussie land and frankly, i was pissed. i mean, i know, everyone fucking wants to live in australia, but fuck! i didn’t want to move to a new country to do my senior year of high school, okay? so yeah, i got shipped off to sydney to live with my dad and the only positive i see in this so far is the fact that i’ll be eighteen in two months. and when i’m eighteen, i can drink to my heart’s content. fuck. yes."
you can call me sunshine. i'm spinning nineteen tracks on my record and i hang out in the pacific timezone. alrighty, don't hate at me just because i'm using cameron leahy's face, he falls into the attention whores. just in case you're looking for me, i also play nobody. did you hear about the word? ADMIN is the word. k, let's do this.
Mickey hated being read like he was an open book. As nice as he was, as kind as we was, Mickey didn’t like people being able to look at him and tell him exactly how he was feeling, which was something that Tristyn was exceptionally good at. It freaked him out; he knew he couldn’t lie to her because she would see right through it. It also didn’t help that he was high and when Mickey was high, he had trouble masking his emotions more than he usually did. Which, in turn, made him even easier to read and that fact just irritated the nineteen year old more than anything. As Tristyn spoke, begging him to be honest with her, to stop holding back, he attempted to tune her out. It was better this way; he was scared of losing his temper around her just because he didn’t want her to realize how big of a douche he really could be. When Mickey was mad, he often said things he regretted and he would be too prideful and afraid to approach the subject again, often resulting in unsaid apologies and tension in the year. So he just stared at her, feeling his pent up emotions beginning to overflow and finally he just snapped, figuring it was better to get things out in the open, especially while she urged him to do so. “Oh what the fuck ever.” He stated after her little spiel about how she wouldn’t have been able to break up with him in person. “Do you even realize that there may have been the potential to fucking talk about this? Maybe we wouldn’t have had to break up. No, better yet, maybe we could still be friends.” He hated being this angry, but the dam had been broken and he knew he was on his way to word vomit. He was going to be saying things that should have been said days ago. “You took the coward’s way out, Tristyn. Telling me we’re breaking up and then closing the little window. Good fucking job. Proud of yourself?” He looked away from her face, not wanting to see the damage he may have just inflicted. Mickey, no Micah, hated consequences of fights. When he lost his temper, he was just an ordinary pissed off person, without any of his rockstar god like ego and cover. “You want to know what the worst part was though?” He voiced the question a few seconds after his initial blow up, after the air had time to clear and settle. His voice was even, guarded, and he glanced over at her. “You fucking ignored me for, well, forever. I’d say hi and you’d give me the cold shoulder. Like, what the hell, Tristyn. I’d wake up in the morning and you’d be gone and when I’d go to bed, you’d be asleep. No chance to even talk; guess you’re just a scared little baby without that computer screen between us.”
God, he had no idea what he was saying right then. He was mad, he was saying things as they came to him, as disconnected as they were. He was hurling insults at her: coward, baby, scared and in some ways he meant them. In others, he didn’t, and he was trying to rein himself in before he said something that would cause irreversible damage. Micah knew Tristyn. He knew that she was a nice person under her cold, bitchy exterior and he had seen it before. He liked it. He also knew she had been cornered and attacked multiple times over the whole Jer and Eden thing and he knew that he wasn’t helping. But he couldn’t stop. He was just so frustrated with the fact she liked him yet broke up with him. Liked him but treated him like shit. This was just impossible for the boy to decipher. He was hurt. He was confused. He was upset. He was high. It wasn’t a good combination at all.
She was talking again, saying how it was his fault now. How he should have been the one trying to make amends and tell her he wanted her. He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “I was in fucking shock, Tristyn. It’s not every day, out of the blue, my girlfriend tells me on goddamn AIM that she’s breaking up at me. If you knew me as well as you apparently do, you’d know that.” He paused, taking a breath, and tried to calm down. “Don’t bring Charlotte into this. She had nothing to do with any of this. She’s just my friend.” God, her trying to drag in another person just ticked him off even more; that was a low blow. And then she was talking again, going off about how she didn’t deserve him and fucking things up and it was then that Micah had finally had it, snapping his head to the side to give her the meanest look he could muster. “You’re scared of fucking this up?” He exclaimed. “Fuck, Tristyn! It’s already way too late for that. You fucked this all up the moment you decided you weren’t good enough and the moment you decided to break up with me for a stupid ass reason over the fucking internet.” He looked away again, his breathing heavy and glaring daggers into the ground when he heard it. Sniffling. Sniffling that turned into full blown sobbing and it was nerve wracking. All Mickey could do was stare at her for the duration of time that she cried, unsure of what to do. He hadn’t realized how broken she was; Tristyn was so good at hiding her true emotions from him and when he had finally gotten to the point where he could pick them out, she had dumped him. And now he was just too upset, too angry, to actually care about how she was feeling. Her crying though was breaking through his anger and he could feel himself returning to an anger that didn’t make him shake. Hell, he could feel his anger beginning to melt away, especially as she began to speak again, her voice soft. He turned to look at her, evenly, trying to hide the fact that he was beginning to calm down more so because she was crying and he hated seeing her hurt, even though part of him wanted her to feel like this forever. He just stared at her, silent, stunned, at the fact that she wanted him back and he licked his lips, nervous. He wasn’t sure what to do; his mind was reeling. “Tristyn...” He said her name, voice soft and apologetic. “Hey, come here. I’m sorry.” He opened his arms up, inviting her to curl up next to him. God, he was craving her closeness right now. Watching her break down before him had robbed him of his anger and now he just felt horrible. Horrible for yelling at her, for treating her like shit, for blaming everything on her. Mickey wasn’t going to lie: he wanted her back more than anything. He was scared to say anymore, afraid of how she would react. “You know,” He began, looking at her evenly. “I’d...I’d be willing to. You know. Try again.” There, Mickey had said it. Try again. He really hoped that he wouldn’t regret those words but he meant them. He felt so open, so vulnerable, right now. He was terrified of her rejection, that she would throw the fact she didn’t feel worthy of him in his face and storm off, telling him how insensitive or whatever he was. He really hoped that she would accept what he had just offered, ignoring the fact he was high and the fact he had just spilled his own guts to her about what a terrible person he thought she was. Had he misheard her? Did she really not want them to be over? Or was his mind playing tricks on him because he wanted her back that badly. Mickey shut his eyes, letting his head fall back against the bus, trying to get his racing heart to go back to normal and his breathing to even out again. “I really miss you, Tristyn.” Which he did. At least he was willing to admit that much to her. God, he was afraid she would think that he was lying, but Mickey knew that if she could tell that he was lying about something as pathetic as not being angry than she could tell if he was being genuine. At the same time though, he knew that she might think it was all just a dream, that he was humoring her or something of the like. She might not believe him and God, that would just crush him if she didn’t. So, he smiled, a soft peaceful smile, hoping that he had gotten his point across to her and hoping, more than anything, that she believed him.