Me: Seventeen, somewhere between female and male, red hair out of a box on top of naturally brownish blonde, skin whiter than new copy paper, blue as hell eyes, homebound schoolwork, occasionally in legal trouble, and a general pain in the ass/cause of reasonable fear to anyone that talks to me. I like music, reading, anime, manga, writing, drawing, and singing. I'm no good at the lattermost three. I don't like my feelings, my mind, sometimes, doing drugs that leave me feeling lost, feeling lost anyway, and my hair. I have no special someone. I have few friends. I enjoy my life, what of it I manage to keep track of. I have two alter-egos, a girl and a boy. The girl is perpetually in a bad mood, or at least unkind, and the boy is probably the girliest male anyone will encounter. He has a girlfriend, and the girl... has... something close...? I think? A fallen angel.

My writing habits, abilities, etc.: Nil. Squat. Nada. The most I've been able to write since my dad left has been role-play related. Every now and again, my pencil with shite something to play with, or my pen will, magically, start writing something by itself, and then it all disappears again.

My status: Writer's block the size of Alaska, so every now and again, I come up with something, type on it, decide I don't like it anymore, put it somewhere to die. Bored as all hell. Sometimes depressed, since my dad left.

My writing's statuses: Searching for Something- Lame as all hell, probably boring, pointless, and stupid. However, I continue writing it.

High school hell- New one, duh, old idea from ages past that I got bouncing ideas off my dad, should turn out at least semi decent, since I came up for a decent, you know, actual problem, here. ^ ^; Conflict and all.