((Alright, as I said, first attempts at writing. And I suck. At least my encyclopedia of a vocabulary helped a little. It's a Bleach thing just so you people know. This is somewhat of a prologue. Therefore, ignore this one.))
Catwoman No, the Panther.
Prologue
For as long as I’ve been alive, I’ve been alone. No one could ever hope to understand me or anything I ever did. All I was, was a spineless artist who could never dream of standing up to the people that made my life miserable. While I could defend myself, I’d grown up in a life of solitude. My mother never had much money, and I’d grown up in a small apartment with just her. Then, I met my step-father.
They’d fallen in love from the moment they met. Two years after their marriage, when I was six, my little sister was born. And with my sister’s birth, came the passing of my mother from her intense labor. My step father took care of the two of us by himself from then on. We still grew up with little money, even though he had a steady paying job.
After my mother died, I started school. I’d never thought about it before, but the kids constantly brought up how weird my hair was. They always asked if I died it and made fun of me. Soon, I took hair dye and permanently died my hair to a normal color and the teasing soon stopped about my hair, but escalated further to more mundane things like how I dressed or acted. After all those jokes had been made and became ancient and apathetic, they traded to toss jeers in my direction about my personal life, mainly not having any money as most kids did. I had hand-me-down clothing and everyone thought me to be a geek and unworthy of their time. Soon, I learned how to fight, and how to ignore the jeers. Still, I never had any friends in school.
After going to Art school, I moved away from my father and my younger half sister. I’m now a twenty-three year old artist working for an egotistical b*****d who cares for nothing but himself and the image of his company. He creates cosmetics for men and women. I’m one of his top ten artists, but my work is nothing really special. After I started working for the egotistical b*****d, I met two people who managed to get past my rough exterior and became the closest thing I could ever call a friend. My sister is in school studying to get a degree in teaching. She still keeps in contact with me every once and a while with either a phone call or she’ll pay me a visit.
So, I have a shitty life yes? Well, that was going to change. It was going to change somehow.
Catwoman No, the Panther.
Prologue
For as long as I’ve been alive, I’ve been alone. No one could ever hope to understand me or anything I ever did. All I was, was a spineless artist who could never dream of standing up to the people that made my life miserable. While I could defend myself, I’d grown up in a life of solitude. My mother never had much money, and I’d grown up in a small apartment with just her. Then, I met my step-father.
They’d fallen in love from the moment they met. Two years after their marriage, when I was six, my little sister was born. And with my sister’s birth, came the passing of my mother from her intense labor. My step father took care of the two of us by himself from then on. We still grew up with little money, even though he had a steady paying job.
After my mother died, I started school. I’d never thought about it before, but the kids constantly brought up how weird my hair was. They always asked if I died it and made fun of me. Soon, I took hair dye and permanently died my hair to a normal color and the teasing soon stopped about my hair, but escalated further to more mundane things like how I dressed or acted. After all those jokes had been made and became ancient and apathetic, they traded to toss jeers in my direction about my personal life, mainly not having any money as most kids did. I had hand-me-down clothing and everyone thought me to be a geek and unworthy of their time. Soon, I learned how to fight, and how to ignore the jeers. Still, I never had any friends in school.
After going to Art school, I moved away from my father and my younger half sister. I’m now a twenty-three year old artist working for an egotistical b*****d who cares for nothing but himself and the image of his company. He creates cosmetics for men and women. I’m one of his top ten artists, but my work is nothing really special. After I started working for the egotistical b*****d, I met two people who managed to get past my rough exterior and became the closest thing I could ever call a friend. My sister is in school studying to get a degree in teaching. She still keeps in contact with me every once and a while with either a phone call or she’ll pay me a visit.
So, I have a shitty life yes? Well, that was going to change. It was going to change somehow.
