Post by ari on Apr 9, 2010 12:42:03 GMT -5
Arianna Gemma Bosdell
[/size][/color]they don't know about us[/i][/b]
seventeen, Ari, Ree-Ree, Gemma babes, model, taylor momsen[/font][/color][/i]
ITS TOO LATE TO GO,[/size][/color]
it's getting light out[/i][/b]
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Full Name: Arianna Gemma Bosdell
Age: Seventeen
Birthday: June 15th
Occupation: Model
Likes: Modelling baby. I mean I love it! I’m great at it, if I do say so myself. Although my manager keeps on shouting at me to do more. Hello? I’m seventeen, some things are far too ludicrous for me to do!. I may brag a bit, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to stay in the business! Bragging about me makes everyone think that I know everything that there is to know, and they’ll like me for that. This means more jobs for me and more money as well. Cha ching, baby!
I like the music as well, I mean who doesn’t? I’m an alternative person, I’ll listen to anything and everything, if I don’t like it…well that’s that then…
Dislikes: I hate it when people say that I can’t model. Well do you know how to model? I mean god! They think modelling is all just posing, but hello? There’s so much more, it’s all just hushed up. I hate normal things, like insects and such. That is normal right? I mean a lot of people hate insects and so do I. I mean what’s not to hate? They’re so creepy…and tiny and the way they scurry across the floor, well that just makes my skin crawl. What else do I dislike? Well…erm can’t think of much at the moment.
Daddy: Jacob David Bosdell. 38 years old and a big business man. I’m a proper daddy’s little girl. I can be the sweet, innocent person when I want to be you know? And that is mainly all the time. My daddy loves me and I love him, mainly because he gives me his credit card when I need him. And especially because when my credit cards are maxed out he pays all the bills for me. My daddy is a very big, rich business man. He’s upset nowadays since I don’t go to see him, well daddy; I’m just living my life as a model.
Mommy: Lillian Arianna Mitchell. 38 years old. Well mommy and daddy are divorced. My mother is a very big model too, but she retired from the business to go on a cruise around the world so she can have some fresh new interests. We talk once in a while, not much but our talks are mainly just on how we are, what we’ve got planned next…etc, etc…Daddy pays fro mom’s trip, but that’s because he wants to. My parents are quite friendly for two people who have just recently had a very hard divorce.
Well that’s all about me…I think. Do you want to know anymore?
JUST TAKE IT EASY,[/size][/color]
it's too late to go[/i][/b]
hi, my name is Bubbles. i'm fourteen years old, respect it. i live in a pretty sweet place, but that puts me in the UK timezone. you might know me as no one else, or not. but you can always contact me though pm. that's enough of that. sample time![/size][/blockquote][/color]
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So yeah I shall start from the beginning. I might as well say that I was a wimp as a teenager. A total wimp, it makes me disgusted about myself just by thinking of my wimpiest years. I didn’t really have a good immune system, but neither did a lot of ids anyway. So my parents divorced about when I was thirteen right, and I wasn’t really fine with it. Like I said; wimpy years. After the divorce, both parents had custody of me, so that meant I had to stay in ones house for a week and then the next week in the other’s house. And since my parents couldn’t even stand to see each other’s faces I had to make the walk by myself to their houses. On my way I used to steal things, you know, like I said in your ‘secrets’ question. I just used to grab handfuls of things. It was fun; feeling the rush of almost being caught and feeling pride in having millions of sweets when others couldn’t. I loved to gloat about it in front of the kids at school.
Once behind the school I was taken by these boys, they had then pummelled me to a pulp. It was painful. I had fallen to the ground after the first punch and couldn’t really get up, but they continued to hurt me. I got kicked in the stomach, the face, got spat on, my head had started to throb. I didn’t know the reason why these guys had beaten me up in the first place. As I was going home after my beating, I fell to the ground. I hadn’t noticed that I was bleeding a lot. I woke up afterwards in some kind of warehouse. When I got up I saw a guy, who I will call Tattoo Face here. I won’t say the talk we had because I like keeping things like this to myself, but Tattoo Face had helped me in the next few years. He taught me how to fight, he helped me build up muscle and he treated me like a brother. He might be – I’m saying MIGHT- the only person I’ve ever liked. I used to fight in illegal fights with him; we were partners if you wanted to say that. It was fun, we always won the fights and I never felt any better. We were the unbeatable ‘couple’ if you would say so…
Two months after my seventeenth birthday I started feeling dizzy. My throat was killing me and I knew it couldn’t be anything to do with cigarettes because I had them only once or twice a week, or drugs because I never took them. During fights I became easily bruised. I lost my appetite many a times. I bled really easily but I never went to the hospital. Once while living in my mother’s house for the week, she walked in while I was naked from waist above. She saw the bruises on my body, and well made me go to the hospital. They took a lot of tests about me then. It was all too painful, ahh I found another dislike. I hate doctors, they think they help you but they really don’t. They bring you even more pain. So after more and more tests over the next few weeks they finally figured out I had leukaemia. My father wasn’t there at that time; I think he was on his honeymoon with his new wife. Memories a bit edgy these days you know…So yeah my health grew worse and worse, my mum tried to get me to have a bone marrow transplant but I didn’t want one. They also wanted to put me on radiation therapy and chemotherapy things, but I flat out refused. I didn’t want my hair to fall out. Pretty soon my health deteriorated even more, so much more that I could barely get out of bed. Apparently I was supposed to have died a few moths ago, but I was strong. I didn’t cry or anything when I died, I just died. It was when I was asleep, I could feel my breathing getting heavier and heavier, and I opened my yes suddenly to see you. I am not going to tell you how I really felt then, I mean I don’t need to ok?
Once behind the school I was taken by these boys, they had then pummelled me to a pulp. It was painful. I had fallen to the ground after the first punch and couldn’t really get up, but they continued to hurt me. I got kicked in the stomach, the face, got spat on, my head had started to throb. I didn’t know the reason why these guys had beaten me up in the first place. As I was going home after my beating, I fell to the ground. I hadn’t noticed that I was bleeding a lot. I woke up afterwards in some kind of warehouse. When I got up I saw a guy, who I will call Tattoo Face here. I won’t say the talk we had because I like keeping things like this to myself, but Tattoo Face had helped me in the next few years. He taught me how to fight, he helped me build up muscle and he treated me like a brother. He might be – I’m saying MIGHT- the only person I’ve ever liked. I used to fight in illegal fights with him; we were partners if you wanted to say that. It was fun, we always won the fights and I never felt any better. We were the unbeatable ‘couple’ if you would say so…
Two months after my seventeenth birthday I started feeling dizzy. My throat was killing me and I knew it couldn’t be anything to do with cigarettes because I had them only once or twice a week, or drugs because I never took them. During fights I became easily bruised. I lost my appetite many a times. I bled really easily but I never went to the hospital. Once while living in my mother’s house for the week, she walked in while I was naked from waist above. She saw the bruises on my body, and well made me go to the hospital. They took a lot of tests about me then. It was all too painful, ahh I found another dislike. I hate doctors, they think they help you but they really don’t. They bring you even more pain. So after more and more tests over the next few weeks they finally figured out I had leukaemia. My father wasn’t there at that time; I think he was on his honeymoon with his new wife. Memories a bit edgy these days you know…So yeah my health grew worse and worse, my mum tried to get me to have a bone marrow transplant but I didn’t want one. They also wanted to put me on radiation therapy and chemotherapy things, but I flat out refused. I didn’t want my hair to fall out. Pretty soon my health deteriorated even more, so much more that I could barely get out of bed. Apparently I was supposed to have died a few moths ago, but I was strong. I didn’t cry or anything when I died, I just died. It was when I was asleep, I could feel my breathing getting heavier and heavier, and I opened my yes suddenly to see you. I am not going to tell you how I really felt then, I mean I don’t need to ok?
