NAME; hadley porter, 21 
MAJOR; health
HOMETOWN; pheonix, arizona
BIO; hadly is not who you would want to tend to you in the hospital. Her bedside manor would be horrible. But it is a good thing that hadley has no intrest in becoming a simple nurse. Hadley would like to be a neurosurgeon which requires no people skills. A good thing too, hadley isn't a very pleasant. Only a few people can stand her constant onslaught of snarky comments. And not to mention that hadley isn't even sober most of the time. She doesn't believe in social drinking, thinks that is for prickks who are fake. So in her mind being intoxicated most of the time is real. She comes to class hungover most of the time but some how hadley still maintains her perfect gpa. It astounds the other students and her teachers that she even made it into yale. But the truth is hadley wasn't like this before coming to yale. She was actually a very clean cut good girl from pheonix. But something happened in the middle of hadley's first year that changed her. She exchanged her occasional sip of wine to an unhealthy amount of vodka. Not even those closest to her know why, and if you ask her she just gets mad and marches off to her room. So the question is what exactly did happen to this girl her freshman year?
MODEL; Coco Rocha (for now)
TAKEN BY; OPEN
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1. hadley
2. vika
3. julia
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I woke up, an empty shot glass in my hand; a finished bottle of raspberry stoli on the coffee table, along with several open textbooks.

I set the glass down and yawn as I run my fingers through my dry, limp hair. I had no idea what day it was, or whether or not I was hungover; but it was probably Thursday, and I probably was. 

I stood up quickly and the room span around me. Yep, definitely hungover. 

I grinned. Just like every other morning.

I plump myself back down on my couch and pick up my phone, seeing that the alarm on it had already gone off seven times. I check the clock.

10:45. Shit.

Finally I get my lazy ass off the couch, not bothering to change clothes. I slip on my calf-high booties and teeter across the room, all the way to the full-length mirror. I quickly catch a glimpse of myself. Not like anything had changed. I still had the messy red hair, and the dark grey circles under my bloodshot eyes.

I stumble out the door, bag and flask in hand, careful not to forget my schoolbooks.

I can suddenly feel my heels wade under me as they hit the rocky pavement and the cold, New Haven air run through my bones. I look up at the sky. Sometimes I just wanted to float away.

I let out a grogy sigh and begin on the walk towards my health class. Everyone always said it was so ironic; 'ya know, that Hungover-Hadley was actually going to help people. 

But that's never why I wanted to do it: become a neurosurgeon. I mean, yeah, I guess helping people was apart of it, but I just enjoyed the irony-- I mean not having to deal with the 6 bajillion other dumbf*cks that inhabited the world. 

If there was one thing that was true about Hungover-Hadley, it was that she hated people.

Before I knew it I was in front of Connecticut hall. I let myself in and walked down the long hallway toward my classroom.

I stumbled through the open door, and looked up.

"Hadley Porter. Late... again?" My professor said sarcastically. The whole class turned over their bony, tired shoulders and looked me up and down.

"Yes sir." I replied, my speech slurred. Was he really that surprised?

"I suggest you take your seat Ms. Porter, this whole class isn't going to stop for you." Professor Lee. What a c*nt. He only treated everyone like they were first graders because he couldn't even hold a steady relationship with his (now ex-) wife. For all I knew, he probably came home to a bunch of fat cats every night and cried. What a lame-o.

I listened to him, though, and walked down towards my seat. i opened my notebook and began to take notes; today they were something about how to properly incision the temporal lobe. I may have been quite hungover, but that didn't mean I wasn't smart. Maybe that's why I got drunk all the time, to prove people wrong about me. Haha, no. 

Nevermind, it's not like I could remember why I was drunk most of the time anyway. Well, maybe I could, I didn't know. I couldn't just keep lying to /myself/, could I?
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Bleh. Sorry this story is kind of weird and confusing... I'm just really exhausted.

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I think i should get the part because I would definitely write a lot of stories for Hadley. I also totally have a bunch of time on my hands now that it's almost winter break. I also think that I can portray Hadley really well. I kind of understand people like her; ones who are trying to forget their past. Okay, that was cheesy, but you get what I mean. Oh yeah, and I'm also imagining Hadley's style as sort of crazy, which is the explanation for the outfit in this set.
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