I Met A Girl Who Hated The World X x X

[::::Poison::]

I met a Girl Who Hated the World . . .

General
Name:

Amy Van Zyl

Gender:

Female

Age:

19

I never found out how she survived
All of the sadness she kept inside
I never found out how she could lie
With the smile on her face and the scratches she'd hide

Physical
Appearance:

Amy’s most noticeable feature is her bright blue eyes. Probably due to the amount of black eye makeup she wears. Her eyes are what most people envy about her, they say that the eyes are the window to the soul, for Amy this is almost literally true, you can almost always tell what she’s thinking or how she’s feeling from her eyes, they’re the reason she finds it so hard to shield her feelings from people, and it always her eyes that give it away. It frustrates her so much, and it’s one of the reasons she hates them at times, sometimes she loves them for the attention they get her, other times it’s the complete opposite. Her eyes are a bright, clear blue, and always (unless she can’t be bothered, which doesn’t happen often) rimmed with eyeliner and shi-t, which exaggerates their colouring even more.

Another thing is quite noticeable in this area, is the silver barbell or occasionally ring she wears in the arch of her eyebrow, it didn’t hurt much, she got it done when she was 15 and has had it ever since, sometimes she prefer to take the jewellery out, other times she leaves it in. She loves the disapproving looks she gets from old people.

Amy has a pretty heart shaped face, her skin is deathly pale, and yet her cheeks still manage to maintain a flush, the skin on her face is practically flawless. Amy has jet black hair, its generally quite straight, and slightly layered, it really contrasts her dead pale skin, and exagerattes her light eyes. Sghe usually wears it just lose, and hates tying it up.

Amy has a nice figure, she's not mega skinny, yet not fat, she's a healthy weight. And it shows in her figure, she has a typical hour glass shaped figure, she has shape and its a good thing.

Style:

Personality:

Amy is generally a decent person, she’s a little reproachful and defensive and maybe even rude if she doesn’t know you, but that’s a defence mechanism, to stop her getting hurt. Amy is very judgemental and stereotypical she will judge someones character as soon as she’s sees them, and so often gets the wrong impression or gets them completely wrong.

Generally, on good days (which have recently become very rare for Amy) she is quite outgoing, and even friendly. Amy tends to care about people, she’d quite empathic and can sympathise with people which is why she is able to get on with most.

She is generally very wary of who to trust and who she opens up too, she finds it hide to tell people about her past and so she generally keeps that bottled up, if anyone asks she will give them vague details. She doesn’t like talking about her family at all. She tends to get angry if asked about them and will bite back with a snide remark or something. Amy also has a potty mouth, during her teenage years almost every sentence was punctuated with an errrm word lol. She only 19, and has found it hard to grow out of the habit, having and ipod full of Slipknot, Bullet for my Valentine and Mindless Self Indulgence doesn’t help.

Amy is like her dad, she bottles everything up and locks it away in a place that no one can to too, she sorta lives in a shell, and rarely lets anyone in. She doesn’t like to talk about her feelings, but from her eyes you can usually tell, she never figured out how her sister kept her eyes so cold and controlled, because she certainly hasn’t mastered it.

Amy enjoys playing the piano her grandmother left her, most people find it nerdy, she doesn’t care what they think, she’s been playing since she was 4 and so she’s quite good at it. Amy tends to be oblivious to what others think of her she ignores them, and to be honest she doesn’t care as long as she is happy with herself she’s fine.

Picture:

History:

Tye barely made it to the couch, his body was completely numb from the drugs and the drink, he was pissed and high and he didn’t particularly care. He collapsed onto the sofa and closed his bloodshot eyes for a few seconds, trying to remember the last time he’d been sober. No one cared whether he was sober or not, even his mother wouldn’t look twice at him. He looked like hell and he felt like shit, his skin was dry and pale, his face ashen, and he stank of vomit and vodka. His eyes were hollow and dark and so empty, it was like there was nothing there. Tyson couldn’t make it through a day without getting stoned or drunk, most of the time both. And he knew eventually the things he relied on the most, beer and crack would kill him. But at the same time he needed them, his mind had grown dependant on them, they erased all the pain and hurt, they healed him, somehow they made everything better, but most of all they made him forget. They were his best friends, yet his worst enemies, he could drown out all his thought and feelings and memories, but they always came back, and then he needed more. Tyson spent most of his money on new drugs, and beer and spent of his time broke. Even his best friends had turned their backs on him, but that didn’t matter, Tye didn’t need friends when he had a bottle.

Most of the time Tye felt very much alone, although most of his life he’s spent alone, this was a different feeling of loneliness, almost a realisation that not one person in the world cared, no one blink an eye if he died today. Sometimes he felt so lost and meaningless, so hollow. He tried to tell himself that he was doing okay, that he didn’t friends, that he was fine alone, that he didn’t need anyone, but in his heart he knew that he couldn’t make it alone, not without the drink or drunks. Tyson groaned and turned over, pressing his head into the sofa, not that it would stop the pounding that came with excessive alcohol consumption, he reached for the bottle on the table, and gulped it down; he couldn’t even taste it anymore. Tye lent back into the couch, closing his eyes he knew he’d feel worse in the morning, it took his a body a while to register that there was a hard strange shaped object stabbing into his neck, his reactions were so delayed he didn’t feel the discomfort until a few minutes later. What the fuck, Tye grasped the object and found he’d left his gun lying on the sofa, he never usually left it lying around. His guns home was usually in his back pocket, he always kept it on him. Tye sat up, and stared at the gun in his hands, the pounding in his head had grown stronger, he could barely think straight, and all the while his eyes were fixed on the gun, his gun.

He’d thought about it before, but he’d never had the guts to actually do it, he’d always chickened out at the last minute, he’d been scared of the pain, or scared that no one would care. Now he was so pissed he would do anything just to stop the pounding in his head. He looked at it a while wondering if he would have the guts to it this time, no one would care he knew that; his dad was long gone, his mom, his mom didn’t care, he might as well be dead to her. Tye looked back at the gun, and lifted the safety guard off the trigger. He’d made his mind up, he would end this.

Placing the magazine in the handle and pulling the slide back into place; Tye pondered his death for another few seconds. He felt the cold metal between his fingers, so this was how it would end. He recalled the times he’d thought about doing this before, but he’d never been brave enough to finish it. All the hours spent wondering how the shot would sound, what people would do when they heard it, how much it would hurt. At least he got to choose; the last thing he would feel would be the cold dead kiss of a bullet in the side on his head, he would do this his way. The gun was loaded and all he needed to do was pull the trigger. Tyson brought the gun up and pressed the barrel to the side of his head, he took a deep breath feeling the air rush into his lungs, for the last time. Tye caught sight of his guitar in the corner of his eye, God he loved that guitar. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands shook slightly as he told himself to pull the trigger, but the muscles in his fingers refused to obey him, Goddamnit, he thought, forcing his fingers to squeeze, he felt the trigger move and he waited for an impact. But it never came. Fuck It, he said

[/size]

X x X

<sub>The initial feelings were those of shock, they hadn’t planned this; they hadn’t even talked about it. The idea of being parents was kinda horrifying to them, however, they soon warmed up to it, and eventually they even became happy and excited about the prospect being parents. But that didn’t change the fact that Amy was unplanned. The couple could barely afford to keep themselves going, let alone a baby. The fact that Tyson had ‘problems’ didn’t help, Tyson was a recovering alcoholic and drug addict and in no state to raise a child. Not to mention the fact that very little money was coming in, see Tyson was in a failing band; Saron Gas. It was formed when Tye chose his guitar over his gun, and it wasn’t doing so well. They’d played a few gigs, and were trying to put together a record or something to get them out there, but South African rock bands rarely made it out of South Africa. The record companies just didn’t want to listen, he’d got a letter from a German company, saying they liked the music but couldn’t take them on because they weren’t German, which had really pissed him off, and that was as far as it had gone so far.

The family were always skint; being in a band just didn’t bring enough money in. For a while Tyson got a real job, and tried to keep the band going on the side and for a while they did okay. And then on the 2nd July 1989 Amy was born, in South Africa, just outside of Johannesburg like her father. Amy turned everything upside down. Candace (mom) couldn’t look after a baby on her own; the two of them were constantly up all night changing nappies, feeding her, trying to stop her screaming. Amy was a nightmare, she cried non-stop for the first few months of her life. Tyson couldn’t afford to keep the band going anymore, writing songs and music alongside a full time job and a screaming baby wasn’t easy and it wasn’t working. After putting together an EP and sending it to tons of record companies and getting little or no response, Tyson gave up, and Saron Gas split.

Eventually Amy settled down into her new world and gave her parents a break; she was gorgeous healthy baby weighing 6 pounds at birth, with bright blue eyes and jet black hair. She spent the first few years of her life in South Africa learning to talk with a sunny South African accent like her dad. She enjoyed the first few years of her life, just being a baby and a toddler, her skin was tanned due to so many hours in the Sun. At two years old, the family moved to America, Trudy (Candaces mom) was sick, and they would living her mom house, which was huge, so it was logical to move there. Tyson wasn’t too happy about it, but he knew it would be best for Amy and his growing family, plus Candace was pregnant again. Tyson had grown attached to his daughter and loved to spoil her when he had the chance; he was usually at work and didn’t get to spend much time with them. If they lived in America he wouldn’t have to work so hard, it’s not like they would be paying for the house or anything, Candaces mom was loaded, and they’d be able to spend more time together as a family.

Amy was pretty a much a normal child, she was best friends with the kid across the road, fought with the kid next door, grazed her knees, tore her clothes, got really dirty and played with dolls. Her grandma insisted she got piano lessons, who knew why, Amy loved looking at her grandma’s piano, but she hated playing it. It was sorta a family tradition, her mom had been tortured through five years of piano lessons before refusing to do it anymore. Amys grandma took a liking to her, Amy was everything her mom wasn’t and for some reason her grandma liked that. Amy had never really had a close relationship with her mom, her mom was just there. She washed her clothes and brushed her hair, but she never really showed much affection towards her daughter, there were no hugs, kisses or bed time stories from Candace. Candace was probably kinda jealous of the attention Amy got from her grandmother; Trudy had never shown her own daughter the love she was showing Amy. Candace didn’t go out of her way to be horrible or mean to Amy, but you could see the distance between them and it wasn’t normal.</sub>




[/center]
[/blockquote]

Down on her knees, she wept on the floor
This hopeless life she wanted no more
Dead in her mind and cold to the bone
She opened her eyes and saw she was alone

Relationships
Family

Dogs:

Mother/father:

Tyson Van Zyl and Candace Williams

Brother/sisters:

Wife/Husband:

N/A

Children:

N/A

She never found out how much I tried
All of the sadness she kept made me blind
She never found out how much I cried
Room so tight on the night that she died

Err . . .Stuff
Job:

House size:

I never found out how she survived
A life living lies is a life of denial
I never found out how she could lie
The lie on her face and the darkness inside

Lyrics © Shaun Morgan Welgemoed, Seether, Disclaimer II, Love Her

Status - unfinished