So, all of you want to know about my appearance? Well, I'm not that pretty, nor am I ugly. I'm just... an appearance drifter. My medium-length black hair is usually up in a ponytail so nobody can tell it's greasy. Or stringy for that matter. You also want to know about my eyes? Well you guys, my eyes aren't abnormal colored. I'm not sure if my eyes are brown or hazel (which I know are pretty much two different colors) because they change on me. It's normal for brown to switch to hazel and vice versa, right? Then there's my eyebrows. The obnoxious little buggers are always too thin. Sometimes even too thick hair wise. It's like my nose in a way. My nose has always seemed bigger than everyone else's. Mother said it was genetics.

I don't know why, but my hearing seems to be faulty. Even the simplest words like 'bunny' and 'deoxyribonucleic acid' won't be heard. Dadrion, my stepfather, says it's because my ears are bigger than others. Moving on from that, I think lips are an important part. My lips are full, short, and even look like I'm pouting when I'm not smiling. Then there's my stupid teeth. If you ever saw my teeth, you would probably be disgusted. Usually, I brush my teeth three to four times a week. So there's bad breath, a cavity or two, and then my loose adult tooth.

My mother said that my arms are really long, even my fingers seem longer than her's. But it's not like they don't have flaws. For some odd reason, I get pimples on my arms, chest, and back. The little red dots stay there for about two weeks and I can't afford that pimple remover stuff we have here, so I go without tank tops for a while. Of course there's my legs too. I do have long legs, but it doesn't make much of a difference in my height. Those legs are for running, not comparing my height (which is 5'7") to others. Speaking of body parts near the legs, my feet have actually lost some of their curve.

You know how people assume your personality is either sugary-sweet or tough cookie? Let me tell you what they would assume about me. If you met me for the first time ever, I would seem rude, horrible, and just plain mean. I call people names, shove them, and sometimes steal. Some have said that I'm really bossy. Yeah, sometimes I take charge in projects but I'm not TOO bossy. Then there's me being all brave and courageous, which does get quite annoying. I am modest though, which is a good thing about me.

But if you somehow managed to get through my shell, I can be very nice. I will stand up for any of my friends and be caring. But that doesn't mean there won't be anything mean. I can get snappy and controlling over my friends. They just mean everything to me I guess. Then I can be a little too caught up in being a leader. But other than that, I'm almost always forgiving. I do think some people don't deserve second chances.

My personality gets me in trouble at school. I've caused fights and a couple of mean debates, which sometime lead to injuries. Other times, the bossiness can be useful. Like when you're trying to get a slacker to work. I always have to force them to do their work unless they are a "good" slacker. Which means after I ask them, I don't have to shout or slap them to start working. It's pretty stressful for me to do all the time. Wonderful child, aren't I?

The history is always the juciest part of someone's life. Mine is bland, unimportant, and just plain boring. Unless, of course, you count the fact I almost killed my best friend, became a hater, found my father dead, and got a bunny. Yeah, when I was fourteen I found a bunny on the street. His name is Cupcakes, but that's a different story. Well, if all of you people were wondering about my best friend, I'll tell you. We were ten and I dared him to sneak in one of the medicine factories. You see, there had been a couple break-ins lately and everyone was on high alert, so we went when we thought no one was there. Boy, we were wrong. I looked through the window in the back as he walked around casually. Then a random worker came out of absolutley nowhere and freaked out on us. He tried to get outside but the Peacekeepers came. Let's just say that we never talked again after his punishment. Then he was killed a day before the reaping in his home. Am I supposed to miss him?

On to hating a lot of people and my rude personality. People teased me a lot in school and my feelings were hurt, I was punched and smacked, and then everyone called me "Tiny Tartein" (before my growth spurt). And you would probably think a thirteen year old, aka ME, would be pretty tough. That's not the best answer. Everyday I went home upset and crying. Father told me to suck it up, so I tried. The next day I didn't cry or threaten to hurt them but punches were still delivered. That was perfectly normal though because a couple people in my grade do it for fun. LIke punches on arms and stuff like that. I started hating anyone who bullied me and if they tried to reconcile, I refused. I didn't want anybody to be my friend ever again.

Then, I came back from school one day when I was fifteen. My mother was out at the market and I had no idea where my father was. So I searched the eight rooms in our house, but didn't find him. When I was searching one of the bedrooms a second time, the door creaked open. I assumed it was my father, so I didn't turn but then nobody said anything. So I turned and found my father dead. He hung himself. I screamed and ran for my room and when I was on the stairs, I fell. Have I mentioned I'm clumsy? Soon mother came home and found me curled in a ball. She asked what was wrong and I replied,
"Your bedroom closet."
Soon enough, she screamed and ran out of the house. Mother wasn't the same after that. Always popping in and out of her little world. But after a couple months, she finally decided to come back to the real world. That lead up to my stepfather. His name is Dadrion and he's pretty nice. So far at least.

I decided to tell you the story of Mr. Cupcakes Laylone. Well I came back from the store, where I was picking up some food and saw this brown bunny hopping around. So I grabbed him, stuffed him in my paper bag, and ran home to my parents. Mother was happy about me finally having somewhat of a friend but father wasn't so... ecstatic. He called Cupcakes a waste of time and even tried to kill him once. As for the name, well, I was eating a cupcake. My little rabbit just needed a name after two months and I was not calling him Peter like what mother told me. It's too original to me anyways.

I wasn't sure about the thing about her being a hater and whether it should go in history or personality.