cassia oretio | d12 | FIN

[D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]]

cassia oretio|d12|seventeen|odair

All alone in an open book. Some of the pages are written with delicacy and a fragile pen to make the handwriting close to perfection. Others, are messy. Smudges and stains are wiped across the pages leaving them unloved and broken. I know what's it's like to go through that. My book is tattered. I admit, it's been sat on my rotting shelf for quite some time now, but I know that one day I'll start to write the pages the way I want to. 

I've got sweeping and long dark hair. If I ever got the opportunity, I'd make sure I dyed it a bright colour to stand out from the natural colours everyone here at home has. I get tired of seeing the same sandy and dusty blondes, the same almost-black brown and the same jet black. My face is ever-so-slightly chiseled just underneath my cheekbones, highlighting them in the sun which casts a deep shadow into my cheek, making me look sullen and depressed. 

I'm average height. I've never been anything special. Although, I'm glad I'm not overly tall or short. What's it good for? Reaching cupboards and fitting into confined spaces? No thank you. Those two things, the latter especially, definitely aren't my ideal cup of tea. I've got a plump figure which I'm proud it. It can hold me back at times, but I like it.  

I was brought up in a family that was close and expressed the belief of speaking the truth - so I do. If I don't like your hair - I'll tell you. If I think your personality is ugly, I'll make it clear I think that. My brother describes me as "loud-mouthed". Deep down, I know that a part of me can see where he's coming from. But for now, I don't want to focus on the negative surrounding how I am. I'm more than that. 

Making people smile and laugh is something that is important to me. My parents were always so serious, and when they had me, I doubt they were expecting a child to make a joke out of almost anything. I'm not immature, not at all. I like to think of my sarcastic remarks and my condescending ways a gift and a sign of intelligence. I believe I heard that "sarcasm is the highest form of intelligence". 

I am intelligent, so that would make sense. Usually, I'm one of the students with the highest grades in my class. School is simple. They sit you down, go through what you have to learn and - woolah. I fail to understand how people can be such idiots to ignore a teacher and let their immaturity get the better of them. I've learnt to do so, so why can't you?  

My grandfather meant so much to me. He was my everything. Imagine that there is a stool with three legs. The seat being myself; one leg being my grandfather, another being school and the third being happiness. If you take one away, the stool falls over and tumbles away. I sometimes feel that way, no he's gone. At times, I can't even begin to think of the happy memories we had, because they bring a tear to my eye. It's the feeling of the lump in your throat and eyes watering that has wanted me to become stronger regarding him - but I'll probably never be able to

Another thing that I hold strong feelings for is singing, and music. I've always loved to hum a soft melody to my little brother, maybe add in the few words I can remember if I'm feeling up to it. I'm not particularly good at it, but I'm not bad either. I'm sure you'd be able to differentiate between myself singing and the dying cat in the trash can. It is like it was etched into my heart before I was born. My love for music is strange, yet addicting.

Upon clearing out the underneath of my bed, I came across an old, soggy cardboard box which was asking to be opened. I was going to call in my dad - the aroma leaking from the box was awful. I decided not to, in case I'd found something embarrassing. And thank god I didn't. I pulled back the flaps and picked up a moist piece of paper folded in half to make a book. On the first page was a title of "The Little Wolf". I was, at first, confused so opened it. What I had found was story I had written, aged 5. The "blurb" of the "book" even has written, in somewhat legible writing, "by Cassia Oretio, aged 5". The story was interesting, and one I can relate to now. 

It's strange to think that something I wrote at the age of 5 is something I can relate to aged 17. I suppose that's just how life goes; you never know what the next page will hold.

TABLE BY CHI OF ADOXOGRAPHY!

[shrimp]

that table tho<333
accepted!