Post by Roderick Dwight bishop on Jul 28, 2012 21:55:09 GMT -5
RODERICK BISHOP
full name roderick dwight bishop
nicknames bishop
type original
gender male
age nineteen
birthday november fourteenth
group local
clique N/A
grade N/A
sexuality straight
occupation drug dealer, freelance writer, college dropout
face claim chris brown
alias stephen
persona
independent, drug dealer, partier, pill popper, addict, easy-going, carefree, mediator, depressed, random, vindictive, creative, writer, skateboarder, positive, loyal, underachiever, unmotivated.
life
As cliché as it may sound, my life has been a roller coaster since I graduated from high school nearly two years ago. The summer immediately following graduation, I checked myself into a rehabilitation center for my addiction to marijuana. It was the beginning of the ride for me. Everything seemed to be on the up and up. I was progressing well and showed no signs of relapsing. I’d registered late for classes at the university and was going to be a normal member of society. What a joke. You know those crazy college parties you see on the television? Well around here, those can be some very accurate dramatizations. Long story short: I was offered drugs, turned em down a few times, and eventually gave in. I stayed high, constantly. Can’t say the same for my grades though. My freshman year ended with me dropping out after facing academic probation, and two drug related arrest.
So here I am, a college dropout who lives in a one-bedroom apartment that serves as my sanctum of sorts. My parents decided that they did not want to claim a drug dealing, party-hopping addict, so they basically disowned me and left me with nothing. It was cool though because I already had mine. If you’re ever looking for a little something to take the edge off, just hit me up. Looking to have the craziest party in town? Give me a ring. Just want to hang out and chill? Just knock five times and enter. I’ll probably just be sitting on my photon, smoking and writing. Oh yeah, writing. I guess that’s one thing that stuck with me from rehab. Who knew that writing what and how you felt could be so therapeutic? I’m thinking of making that my craft rather than selling dope, but I still have a rent to pay.
roleplaying sample
click… click… click
The flame sprouted out of the lighter like a geyser after the third click. It began to dance as the lighter moved it so that it lightly engulfed the end side of a blunt, the other side of which rested in between the lips of a young man who inhaled the harsh, yet nerve relaxing smoke deeply before letting it out and removing the blunt from the flame. He puffed the weed stuffed cigar a few times before removing it from his mouth. He held it up into the air and looked at it in the dim light of his apartment bedroom. Looking upon it, he didn’t understand how just a year ago he was trying to give up such a wonderful thing. And for what? So that he could be a productive member of society? Society made him this way. Being a normal member of society drove him to find an escape, a release. This was it. This had always been it. Getting so stoned that he became a inhabitant of the vast playground that is his mind. A reality for him and by him. What was so wrong with that? Real life wasn’t all that great, so why couldn’t he live in this matrix instead?
Bringing the blunt back to his lips, he used his free hand to pick up the pencil that rested in front of him. He brought the pencil to his notepad and spoke aloud what he began to write. “This life isn’t working for me anymore. I’ve been a member of this prison for far too long, and I still have a full life sentence to serve. It seems as if every time my sentence gets even just a little bearable, the ones meant to keep us in check make it worse than I thought it could ever get. Is there really light at the end of the tunnel? Or is it just misplaced hope in the inevitable?”
other characters
None.
