So. I recently moved into my new...em, lot. Really that's all you can call it, because the only wall I have is a makeshift one that hides the toilet and the shower. I have some dignity you know. Well, I suppose you don't, because we've only just met. Hmm.
This is the first thing I bought when I moved to Bridgeport. I'm rather...artistic. For those who are inexperienced in the world of home design and architecture, this is a drafting table. I have registered in the City Hall as "Self-Employed". As soon as I told the snobby woman serving me, I seen the smirk that told me I was worth as much as the dirt on her shoes in her view. Maybe I am. I don't know yet.
This is my finished product.
Had my first day of work today. Served a whole load of celebs and rich, stuck up snooty bitches. Excuse my language, but I slaved over many hand-drawn sketches and ran all the way across town (including the bridge; I nearly got hit by a bus.) just to find some fricking samples that she didn't even want in the end up.
I suppose I have to learn how to compose myself more.
I quite like the way the rooms turned out.
And apparently, so did the customer.
I needed some stress relief at the end of the day, so I decided to check out what Bridgeport was famous for: It's clubs.
Let me tell you, the regulars were certainly surprised to see a newcomer there. I don't know why though, because the citizens of Bridgeport don't seem like people who get to know their neighbors.
Maybe, they were just checking out the competition. Or, their enemies.
Am I paranoid?
I really feel I should tell you more about me. So, here goes.
When I was younger, the other children bullied me. Yeah yeah, it's sad, blah blah blah.
So that put me in a bad place for a while.
Then my parents died in a car crash.
I didn't really miss them. After all, you don't really grow to like the people who locked you in the cellar for days at a time, because you made a friend whom they didn't think was suitable. Ha. They were ones to talk. The whole neighborhood was constantly talking about them.
Anyway. I was fostered. At the age of 16, I left that house for good, and lived out on the streets.
Then I found a gang of people I thought I could relate to, and got...close, with their leader, Zack.
I changed my life for him. Only did things he thought were suitable, only lived the way he thought right.
Then he went and cheated on me. Yay, so much fun.
So I changed my whole look, trying to please myself, not anyone else.
You see, I used to have long, wavy, down-to-my-ass blond hair. Real blond, by the way.
Then, I changed. From someone, to myself.
Ok! Sorry for the lack of pics, hope to get some more in next chapter. I really appreciate feedback, BTW. =)
Love and shizz,
DeepBlue
