August 12, 2006 (11:55 PM)

Welcome to the revamping of my profile, as well as the revamping of my work. It has, after all, ben two years and two illnesses since I have feasted in this world of fiction.

Here is my story:

Born Tak Artemis Anez on December 12 several years ago, I didn't experience my first truly clear memory until August 11, 2003, when my life was absolutely shattered by a tragic move (aka adoption). I've come to realize this as some form of retroactive amnesia, but no name can solve this problem. So, in a home I don't belong in, living a life I don't belong in, I havebeen doingeverything in my power to return.

I attended private school for a year, ripping the administration a new asshole with the help of my friends, then went on to attend public high school where I was supposed to be some kind of genius kid (that which I'm not). In a do-or-die (literally) effort, I finished my first novel within six months. My grades, doubtlessly, slipped, causing my teachers to realize I was not the golden student I was expected to be and my honors-student friends to realize how unlike them I was. After I finished the book I got a boyfriend four years my senior (who I had a lot of fun with) and a boyfriend that no one expected (who was also a lot of fun).

And then I got sick that January -- really sick. I did my best to deal with it, and I dealt with it completely on my own. Though I've blocked it from my memory as best I could, I know I hurt some people deeply. As hard as I tried to push him away, my four-years-older boyfriend stuck by my side like a barnicle. We broke up in June on good terms, and we still see each other occasionally. I recovered in the middle of May. I passed all my APs with flying colors, despite teachers hell-bent on failing me. That summer, I began work on my next novel.

The next year I met a wonderful boy, who I became friends with completely by chance. We spent so much time together that everyone couldn't believe we weren't dating. I thought I had found someone really great, who I could really open up to. And then I got sick -- again. This time my 'mom' found out and I was put on meds -- 20 pills a day. She didn't believe I was sick at first, thinking I was anorexic (when your body malfunctions that much, as I hope you don't find out, there's no way in hell to keep food down), but she soon understood the truth as best she could. I began to push this new friend of mine away, and he did not stick with me as my ex-boyfriend had. I think I have spoken to him only once since, but I still care very deeply about him.May again, I recovered, and started to make plans for the future (college and early graduation and all). I am yet to finish my second novel.

Now I deal with the hopelessness of the idea that I may never return home -- never see my real parents again, and that breaks my heart in ways I don't think you can imagine. I deal with a 'mom' who can't stand nor divorce my 'dad'; a 'dad' who is upset because I can't bring myself to be around him and can barely explain why; a 'family' that hates each other; a knowledge that this isn't my mess to deal with . . .

So, I continue to write 'Kaeritai'.