Remember how I said I wanted to join a roleplay? Well, here we are with a tryout set.
san fransisco, california
with a name like bliss, it’s obvious her parents were hippies. and not like folk-music-peace-sign-flashing hippies. like, the crazy ones who riot for human rights and travel the country in a gigantic mystery machine type van. bliss was never really in one place for a long time, because her family was always moving around wherever the causes led them. she was home schooled, and never really had the chance to make friends or anything because if she was in one place for more than a month it was a miracle. unfortunately for her parents, bliss hated the lifestyle. she wanted a place to call home, where she could do something that mattered that did not involve getting arrested or holding picket signs outside some corporate headquarters. the one thing that bliss could follow, because it was the same everywhere, were fashion advertisements. all over the highways and in magazines she filched from the few girls she met across the way were beautiful girls in beautiful clothes, things she would never be allowed to wear. so, when she was eighteen and legal, she told her parents her dream and bought a plane ticket to new york. unfortunately, her parents refused to accept her material decision and disowned her. now bliss is all alone in the modeling world, so far from anything she’s ever known. hopefully, she can make it out alive.
Well, I guess this is kind of like the prequel.
The old convenience smelled like cat pee. The fluorescent lights whirred as I walked towards the magazine shelf. Vogue. Elle. Harper’s Bazaar. My heart pounded.
I dug for change in my pockets and found five dollars in coins. I grabbed a Vogue of the rack. It was from a last month, but it will do. I handed the change and the magazine to the half asleep shopkeeper.
My eyes had a crazed look in them as I exited the store, waiting to be graced by the beautiful images of models in Alexander Wang and Marc Jacobs. Their beautiful smiles tore my heart into pieces but at the same time held my very presence. They were so sophisticated and poised and beautiful. Everything that I’m not allowed to be.
My parents sat on the lawn of QST Corporation with a whole bunch of nut jobs who seem to share my parents’ cause. They were protesting against their child labour in Bangladesh. Most people don’t care. Some people would stop buying from the company. My parents would camp out in front of the company for two weeks in protest. I mean, it’s wrong and shit, to treat kids like they aren’t even human. But seriously?
I just can’t take this crap of a lifestyle anymore. In my 18 years of living, I’ve never shopped at a mall. They are all like “Did you know that five year olds are exploited to make a shirt?” and stuff. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.
I fumbled with the ticket. It was a one-way plane ticket to New York. I shoved it into my pocket and walked into the kitchen area of our camp. “Mom,” I mumbled.
“Would you like to help me cook dinner, Bliss?” She said as she threw a whole bunch of fresh mint into the soup.
“No mom, we’ve got to talk. I’m tired of always moving around. I’m tired of this ugly t-shirt. I’m tired of this life.”
“Honey, do you know how lucky you are to have food in your stomach every day? You are so incredibly lucky but you don’t realize it.”
“I’m moving to New York, mom and dad. I’m following my dreams. I’m going to be a model.” Tears ran down my face. It feels so good to admit this out loud. It’s as if it’s more legit because I said it out loud.
“Are you out of your corrupted mind? Absolutely not. I refuse to let any child of mine get sucked into materialism.” My dad was stepping into this. However, I was determined.
“I am an adult. I have the right to make a choice for myself. Stop trying to tell me what to do.” We glared at each other.
“Then get your damned adult ass out of my home!” He shouted furiously.
“You decide to choose this route in life? Fine, I let you. Just not as our daughter. Pack your bags and get out of our lives.” Mom said after a long pause. She threw my drying laundry at me. I couldn’t help but let tears glide down my face.
“Fine, goodbye,” I sobbed. I picked up my ugly clothes from the dirty grass and walked back to the van. I threw a bunch of random clothes into a random suitcase and left. My heart ached, but it ached so good.