BeautifulLoser
hello friend
I've posted a few times on here already but as I'm getting back into the swing of things and I decided here was the 'best' place to post my favorite character ever in life.
First things first though -
About me:
- I have been roleplaying for over ten years but I started at the age of like 8 or 9 and was really bad at it. I started to get good at it at the age of 14-ish.
- I am a literate roleplayer but I always deserve quality over quantity. I would rather have a good paragraph with good descriptions, content, etc than several paragraphs of just nonsense and rambling haha.
- I am pretty active but sometimes I get stressed and I am a full time worker as a server. This takes up a lot of the time in my summer. I try to always post at the very least once a day but I have the tendency to poof and disappear for awhile but I always come back and try to tell you I promise haha. I am fine with a few posts a week, everyone has stuff going on, life gets in the way always. I get that.
- I am super chill about things. Ideas, plots, just general talking, etc. I am willing to try anything and everything (in RPN rules of course).
So all that out of the way, if this sort of prompt fits your fancy, post here or PM me haha. It, in typical BeautifulLoser fashion, is dark and twisted but that is the way that I like it always lol.
-----
A ghostly hand reaches out in an attempt to grab me and I unsuccessfully bat it away from me.
"Get away from me!" I scream at the hand that is nothing but pale white skin with blue tinted veins clinging to bone.
It's fingernails are long and sharpened at the edges as the nails themselves continue to yellow as each second passes by. I am shaking as I try to back up away from the long extended fingernails and I am unable to see the figure that is attacking me.
"I don't take orders from you." I yell at the hand. I try to smack the hand away again but the fingernails scrape at my forehead. I feel the burning sensation as blood pools at my forehead and drips at my hands.
"You get away from me!" I scream, chunks of my flesh hanging from its pointed nails.
Dark red blood is falling continuously onto my skin now and it seeps into the creases of my fragile hands. The blood that falls onto my body is tacky and unbearably heavy. I can feel the hot liquid as it rolls onto my skin the substances feeling as though it is hot enough to burn through my flesh. The hand continues to swipe at me as the blood drips into my dead eyes, the eyes that have seen too many horrible things in their lifetime. My eyes burn like a thousand fires have been set to my sclera and my vision is tinted with a red filmy substance.
"Get away!" I scream as I continue to back up away from the hand as my legs tremble and shake. My bloody palms wipe at my eyes in an attempt to get my vision back but I wipe more of the hot tacky substance into my line of sight. I can feel the whip and the snap of the wind as the hand swipes at me again and again and the nails scrape at my cheekbone, peeling my skin back layer by layer. My hands grip at my skin as the freshly opened wound rips and pulls at my nerves. I scream out into the empty air and I feel the strain and wrench of my vocal cords as my fingernails peel at my skin. My back strikes against something cold and hard. I pull my head back to dodge another swipe of the fingernails and my skull cracks against a harsh surface behind me.
My once red tinted vision suddenly goes black and my body hits the ground underneath me.
The cold air holds onto me as I wrap my arms around myself and hope that doing this will protect me from the outside world. My body shakes violently and brutally. My hands are wrapping so tightly around myself that I am nothing but a firm and bloody ball of human flesh and bone. I feel hands grip at my body and my eyes pop open and a face stares back at me.
The face is kind and familiar.
"Emerson!" She yells at me. I shoot awake as my hands grab at my face but no blood stains my fingers. My fingers glide along the skin of my face and I feel nothing but the flesh that lines my prominent bones. Bones that have gone too long without food. Bones that are heavy and crumpling with sleep. No long and yellow fingernails dangle in front of my face and I continue to hold myself as I try to escape her touch as she reaches out for me. Her touch burns at my skin as her hand rests at my shoulder and I feel as though a thousand needles were jammed down into my fragile skin. I shrink away from her once more.
"You were deep in it, Em." she whispers to me. "I came over when I heard you screaming." she says to me as she tries to reach out to touch me again with her hand. I pull away from her as sharply and as quickly as I can.
"I'm fine." I manage to growl at her.
"Emerson," She whispers to me. We both know that I am far from okay. Even the voices in my head know that.
"I said I'm fine." I hiss at her rudely.
She looks at me with that face that she always does. Her face is sad, her lips forced into a sad frown. Her forehead shows signs of stress and anxiety with wrinkles forming in her face in heavy and thick crinkles and rolls. I wipe at my face again in an attempt to find the blood that was just drenching my face a few moments ago.
"You're alright." She says again
"Emerson, your delusions have come back full force... have you been taking the proper dosage of your medications? You know what the doc-" she begins but I cut her off.
"Please. Just stop. " I say to her as I rub at the temples of my head with my left hand, my right hand trying to find the cut that I felt rip into my skin just a few moments ago.
"I'm fine" I whisper to her as I avoid the stares that she pushes into me. Medications. Doctors. Needles. According to her this is all that I need to feel better. What she doesn't realize is that I am Emerson Matthews. I am a schizophrenic. I suffer from delusional disorder along with depression. I am a concoction of all things negative in this world. All things bad were pushed under the fragile frames of my skin, compact into one sad human being. What did I do to deserve all of this? My fingers push into my skin harshly and I can feel the movement of the loose skin that blanket my bone. My fingers push and pull at the skin that is there and it hurts but I don't stop.
"I need to be alone." I whisper to her but that word rolls off of my tongue like venom. It bites at me and puts in a sting in my rapidly beating heart. I watch again as her pink lips push into a line and she stands to her feet without a word. The sadness in her body is evident as she moves through the house and she closes the door behind her. I can hear the slide and the click of the door as it locks into place and I hear her footsteps disappear down the street.
And I'm alone.
That word wraps around me like hands holding me at my throat. It works its way into my stomach like a virus with its fingernails scraping up my insides. I feel sick to my stomach and try to stand up on my feet. My hands press into the cold stone of the fireplace that I had just smashed my head into just moments before. Did I really hit my head or did I just imagine it? I try to maintain my balance but my knees quiver; the pull of my tendons and ligaments cause my knees to cave in. I am alone but I did this to myself. The emptiness claws at me and the pit of my stomach grows larger with each scratch and scrape. My eyes land on the white door to my left but the loneliness paralyzes me and I cannot move. My mind is cluttered with a thousand thoughts and voices.. The feelings of being alone are pervasive and consume me like an infection. Loneliness pushes through me like a wave and eventually it will drown everything in its path. Eventually I will be nothing but an empty shell of bruises and bone. My memories of a time before this one are vacant. Loneliness is all I have ever known. The pit extends into my gut and I can feel the twist and pull of this vicious virus that I am trying so desperately to get rid of.
I want to cry and I want to scream out into the empty house. The house filled with nothing but empty rooms and delusions those of which that belong to a mad man. A panicked and rushed gasp escapes the back of my throat and my hands grab at my mouth as if I was going to push the sound of distress back in again. This is all that escapes me as my eyes slam closed. Tears leak profusely from my eyes and begin to soak my cheeks. My stomach concaves inward and I feel the roll of my spine as my body begins to work against me and I hunch over. My knees convulse and I collapse, my bones falling onto the hearth of the fire place. I curl into myself, the stone is cold against my body once more. Panicked and frantic sobs escape from my mouth and the tears soak at my face. I try to quiet the sobs that frantically escape the back of my throat. The stone is cold and my body is empty. I lay on the large flat rock holding myself more and more tightly as more sobs escape into the empty air.
And I am alone.
-----
So here he is, my baby Emerson. I am uncertain as to where to go with him right now. I have an idea that whoever is coming to check on him is a long term friend and a neighbor of his. Maybe they are really invested in checking up on him and making him face his demons. I am definitely down to take ideas and thoughts or even criticisms of any sort of this piece of writing. I wrote it awhile ago and it's been chilling in my word documents for what feels like forever and a day ahha.
First things first though -
About me:
- I have been roleplaying for over ten years but I started at the age of like 8 or 9 and was really bad at it. I started to get good at it at the age of 14-ish.
- I am a literate roleplayer but I always deserve quality over quantity. I would rather have a good paragraph with good descriptions, content, etc than several paragraphs of just nonsense and rambling haha.
- I am pretty active but sometimes I get stressed and I am a full time worker as a server. This takes up a lot of the time in my summer. I try to always post at the very least once a day but I have the tendency to poof and disappear for awhile but I always come back and try to tell you I promise haha. I am fine with a few posts a week, everyone has stuff going on, life gets in the way always. I get that.
- I am super chill about things. Ideas, plots, just general talking, etc. I am willing to try anything and everything (in RPN rules of course).
So all that out of the way, if this sort of prompt fits your fancy, post here or PM me haha. It, in typical BeautifulLoser fashion, is dark and twisted but that is the way that I like it always lol.
-----
A ghostly hand reaches out in an attempt to grab me and I unsuccessfully bat it away from me.
"Get away from me!" I scream at the hand that is nothing but pale white skin with blue tinted veins clinging to bone.
It's fingernails are long and sharpened at the edges as the nails themselves continue to yellow as each second passes by. I am shaking as I try to back up away from the long extended fingernails and I am unable to see the figure that is attacking me.
"I don't take orders from you." I yell at the hand. I try to smack the hand away again but the fingernails scrape at my forehead. I feel the burning sensation as blood pools at my forehead and drips at my hands.
"You get away from me!" I scream, chunks of my flesh hanging from its pointed nails.
Dark red blood is falling continuously onto my skin now and it seeps into the creases of my fragile hands. The blood that falls onto my body is tacky and unbearably heavy. I can feel the hot liquid as it rolls onto my skin the substances feeling as though it is hot enough to burn through my flesh. The hand continues to swipe at me as the blood drips into my dead eyes, the eyes that have seen too many horrible things in their lifetime. My eyes burn like a thousand fires have been set to my sclera and my vision is tinted with a red filmy substance.
"Get away!" I scream as I continue to back up away from the hand as my legs tremble and shake. My bloody palms wipe at my eyes in an attempt to get my vision back but I wipe more of the hot tacky substance into my line of sight. I can feel the whip and the snap of the wind as the hand swipes at me again and again and the nails scrape at my cheekbone, peeling my skin back layer by layer. My hands grip at my skin as the freshly opened wound rips and pulls at my nerves. I scream out into the empty air and I feel the strain and wrench of my vocal cords as my fingernails peel at my skin. My back strikes against something cold and hard. I pull my head back to dodge another swipe of the fingernails and my skull cracks against a harsh surface behind me.
My once red tinted vision suddenly goes black and my body hits the ground underneath me.
The cold air holds onto me as I wrap my arms around myself and hope that doing this will protect me from the outside world. My body shakes violently and brutally. My hands are wrapping so tightly around myself that I am nothing but a firm and bloody ball of human flesh and bone. I feel hands grip at my body and my eyes pop open and a face stares back at me.
The face is kind and familiar.
"Emerson!" She yells at me. I shoot awake as my hands grab at my face but no blood stains my fingers. My fingers glide along the skin of my face and I feel nothing but the flesh that lines my prominent bones. Bones that have gone too long without food. Bones that are heavy and crumpling with sleep. No long and yellow fingernails dangle in front of my face and I continue to hold myself as I try to escape her touch as she reaches out for me. Her touch burns at my skin as her hand rests at my shoulder and I feel as though a thousand needles were jammed down into my fragile skin. I shrink away from her once more.
"You were deep in it, Em." she whispers to me. "I came over when I heard you screaming." she says to me as she tries to reach out to touch me again with her hand. I pull away from her as sharply and as quickly as I can.
"I'm fine." I manage to growl at her.
"Emerson," She whispers to me. We both know that I am far from okay. Even the voices in my head know that.
"I said I'm fine." I hiss at her rudely.
She looks at me with that face that she always does. Her face is sad, her lips forced into a sad frown. Her forehead shows signs of stress and anxiety with wrinkles forming in her face in heavy and thick crinkles and rolls. I wipe at my face again in an attempt to find the blood that was just drenching my face a few moments ago.
"You're alright." She says again
"Emerson, your delusions have come back full force... have you been taking the proper dosage of your medications? You know what the doc-" she begins but I cut her off.
"Please. Just stop. " I say to her as I rub at the temples of my head with my left hand, my right hand trying to find the cut that I felt rip into my skin just a few moments ago.
"I'm fine" I whisper to her as I avoid the stares that she pushes into me. Medications. Doctors. Needles. According to her this is all that I need to feel better. What she doesn't realize is that I am Emerson Matthews. I am a schizophrenic. I suffer from delusional disorder along with depression. I am a concoction of all things negative in this world. All things bad were pushed under the fragile frames of my skin, compact into one sad human being. What did I do to deserve all of this? My fingers push into my skin harshly and I can feel the movement of the loose skin that blanket my bone. My fingers push and pull at the skin that is there and it hurts but I don't stop.
"I need to be alone." I whisper to her but that word rolls off of my tongue like venom. It bites at me and puts in a sting in my rapidly beating heart. I watch again as her pink lips push into a line and she stands to her feet without a word. The sadness in her body is evident as she moves through the house and she closes the door behind her. I can hear the slide and the click of the door as it locks into place and I hear her footsteps disappear down the street.
And I'm alone.
That word wraps around me like hands holding me at my throat. It works its way into my stomach like a virus with its fingernails scraping up my insides. I feel sick to my stomach and try to stand up on my feet. My hands press into the cold stone of the fireplace that I had just smashed my head into just moments before. Did I really hit my head or did I just imagine it? I try to maintain my balance but my knees quiver; the pull of my tendons and ligaments cause my knees to cave in. I am alone but I did this to myself. The emptiness claws at me and the pit of my stomach grows larger with each scratch and scrape. My eyes land on the white door to my left but the loneliness paralyzes me and I cannot move. My mind is cluttered with a thousand thoughts and voices.. The feelings of being alone are pervasive and consume me like an infection. Loneliness pushes through me like a wave and eventually it will drown everything in its path. Eventually I will be nothing but an empty shell of bruises and bone. My memories of a time before this one are vacant. Loneliness is all I have ever known. The pit extends into my gut and I can feel the twist and pull of this vicious virus that I am trying so desperately to get rid of.
I want to cry and I want to scream out into the empty house. The house filled with nothing but empty rooms and delusions those of which that belong to a mad man. A panicked and rushed gasp escapes the back of my throat and my hands grab at my mouth as if I was going to push the sound of distress back in again. This is all that escapes me as my eyes slam closed. Tears leak profusely from my eyes and begin to soak my cheeks. My stomach concaves inward and I feel the roll of my spine as my body begins to work against me and I hunch over. My knees convulse and I collapse, my bones falling onto the hearth of the fire place. I curl into myself, the stone is cold against my body once more. Panicked and frantic sobs escape from my mouth and the tears soak at my face. I try to quiet the sobs that frantically escape the back of my throat. The stone is cold and my body is empty. I lay on the large flat rock holding myself more and more tightly as more sobs escape into the empty air.
And I am alone.
-----
So here he is, my baby Emerson. I am uncertain as to where to go with him right now. I have an idea that whoever is coming to check on him is a long term friend and a neighbor of his. Maybe they are really invested in checking up on him and making him face his demons. I am definitely down to take ideas and thoughts or even criticisms of any sort of this piece of writing. I wrote it awhile ago and it's been chilling in my word documents for what feels like forever and a day ahha.
