T H E C H A R A C T E R
You will not believe how hard it is to find a picture of Thailand that isn't smiling. Khun Thanasukolwit.
Age: Twenty-five.
Birthday: Fifth December.
Gender: Male.
Hometown: Songkhla, Thailand.
Appearance: Dark, chocolate brown straight hair, which, if combed, will just lightly brush his shoulders. Although, due to random bouts of fatigue, he sleeps a lot and finds no time, or need, to brush his hair, leaving him with a messy, spiky bedheaded look for most of the day. His eyes are the same vibrant brown, though most of the time glazed over and dimmed or hidden behind his foggy glasses which he never attempts to clean. He is rather tall, taller than most Asians, standing at one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters in height with a relatively thin, maybe a little too thin, lanky body. He has pale, pasty skin that burns easily in the sun, which is a problem while in California.
Personality: He is cheerful, bright and always smiling. Though, if you look closely enough, his smile may seem like a condescending smirk for a few seconds before it's gone. You can read every emotion shown on his face but he is everything but an open book and keeps the things important to him secret and locked away.
Khun's personality is partially a rouse. Half to keep people coming, drawing them in with his charming, cheery and vibrant personality to fend himself from the immense, torturous boredom that comes when one has nothing better to do that to sit on a somewhat uncomfortable, hospital bed in a bleached white room all day. The other half is for himself, pretending to be who he wants to be instead of the cold, sarcastic, selfish, masochistic, snappy, cynical, somewhat suicidal bastard he's convinced he is and what years of staying in a hospital knowing your never getting out turned him into.
"Hide you melancholy, distress and heartache behind smiles."He cares little for personal hygiene, he has few sets of clothes (most baggy to hide his underweight figure), besides the normal hospital garments, and rarely washes them except when forced to, often wearing a shirt for days on end before changing it. Eating without washing his hands and other such things. These are his tiny, though most of the time futile, attempts at getting such a bad enough fever where they wont be able to cure him and he'd be out of his misery. Anything more severe and they might put him in a mental institution if he fails. And being interrogated by a therapist or bound by a straitjacket was not that appealing.
He secretly yearns for someone to actually talk to, but is scared his true personality would scare them away. He gets lonely easily and has attachment issues. He's so afraid of losing someone that he tries to get rid of someone to lose before he can lose them. But in the end he feels just as horrible. He needs someone with patience to get through every outershell he's barricaded himself with and someone with enough understanding not to judge him.
Diagnosis: His asthma, which he had since birth, worsened considerably to the point where he nearly died after moving to America. The attacks became more severe and persistent, sometimes even daily. Also, he was born with a very, very low immune system which makes him easily susceptible to viruses and fevers.
Symptoms: - Vomiting of food and/or blood.
- Random and severe asthma attacks.
Incident: One day, after seven months of living in America, he had doubled over on the sidewalk, coughing to the point where he spat out blood. His father didn't care for it and tried to force him up, only for him to fall down repeatedly. A passer-by had seen the display and quickly called an ambulance at which point his father left hurriedly. That was the last time he had seen any of his family members, but he only wants to see his mother.
Other Notes: He has a tiny, blue, old, worn out stuffed elephant that's missing half it's ear which he carries around with him
everywhere. Don't touch it. Really. Just don't.
History: Living in the tiny, sleepy, somewhat isolated fishing town situated somewhere in Songkhla, he never had much experience living anywhere else. However, when his family moved to America he found his body unable to stand the filthy polluted air that clouded the streets like a thick fog. At least, to him. He would grow faint and weary and often didn't have the appetite to eat anything for days on end, and when he did it came back out more times than it would go down. His asthma worsened after the prolonged exposure and his attacks became more unpredictable and frequent.
But his family paid little to no attention to the obvious distress he was in, his father was stressed as it was, what with having to move to a new country and taking care of five children, of which he was the youngest. He were stern, not noticing the symptoms and frankly, didn't care enough to look for them. Scolding him whenever he didn't eat his food, even going so far as to force the food down his throat, or if he slept in the middle of the day due to his frequent faint spells, even when he had his asthma attacks, to which he would say he was just faking for attention.
The only reason he had survived through it all was because of his mother. She would sneak out and buy his medicine, inhaler, even with what little money they had. But she wouldn't leave his father, she said she still loved him. Which he doubted but kept his mouth shut, not wanting to hurt her or cause her unwanted trouble, of which he was already doing.
Then his life turned for the worst, or maybe better in some aspects, when he was accompanying his father out to go buy groceries. A truck passed by, black smoke rising from the exhaust pipe and into the air. He coughed and held his chest in pain as the sharp stabbing sensation became even more persistent, suddenly falling in the middle of the street, coughing violently and then vomiting, to the point where blood welled up in his mouth after there was nothing left in his stomach to upchuck. Even then, it wasn't his father, it was a stranger passing by who called an ambulance while his father shouted for him to get up. When the ambulance did arrive though, his father had left, abandoning him as he was taken by the paramedics.
He was thirteen at that time and has stayed in the hospital since then, as whenever he does try get discharged he gets readmitted, at the most, within two days. Because of this he hasn't achieved a proper education, and has no hopes of getting one. To be honest, he has no hopes of living a life outside of the hospital.
Other Important Info: Because of his closet suicidal tendencies, he has taken to smoking, stealing a few cigarettes a packet (As taking a whole packet would tip people off) from one of the doctor's offices and sneaking out to the rooftop frequently to get a good smoke. Every time he does though, he becomes terribly sick or gets an asthma attack, though it never is enough to kill him as he hopes as the amount of tar in the cigarettes isn't that high. Also the times he can smoke are irregular, sometimes days and other times months can be between them.
Roleplay Sample:
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, sharp teeth slicing at the skin and drawing blood as his eyes narrowed and scrutinized at the frail, scrawny body in front of him. Tracing a finger over one of the more prominent lower ribs that seemed ready to pierce through skin, he frowned, lower lip jutting out in a slight pout. He stretched his neck, tilting his head from side to side, rolling shoulders and nearly flinching at how he could see the bones even through the fabric of the dark teal, tattered shirt.
He sighed to himself, lowering his shirt so that the oversized, baggy garment hung around his hips. Leaning over to pick his glasses off the bedside table and trying to peer through the dust that settled on them during the night before he put them on and spared another glance at the mirror, taking in his bony, underweight, skeleton-like form before the right side of his mouth quirked upwards to form a laxed smirk.
At least I have a figure that every getting-on-a-magazine obsessed bulimic is after.He chuckled lightly at his own attempt at a joke, slightly wondering if he would've laughed any louder if someone had been there for him to share it with. He shrugged to himself before flopping unceremoniously on his bed, cringing as the needle in his arm jerked slightly at the sudden movement. He stared at the ceiling, the bright fluorescent hospital lights threatening to blind him. So, to avoid going blind and losing the small joy of seeing colors, he snapped his eyes over to the food left untouched on the tray by the table.
He stared.
And stared.
And
stared.He could try again, to eat it when he wasn't hungry but when his body so badly needed the food. And God knows he would do anything for the taste of some good Thai food in his mouth, which of course, was rare, seeing as hospitals don't usually take requests. And really, he had been growing tired of getting his daily nutrition from an IV stand. But then of course, he would have to deal with the horrible aftertaste of half-digested food mixed with bile that came when one involuntarily emptied one's stomach it's contents for the fourteenth time that week in a toilet.
He pursed his lips into a thin line before rolling over.
It's not worth it. He mused to himself, nodding as if trying to convince himself of it as his stomach growled hungrily. He eyed the needle in his arm and then the long tube that connected to the bag of clear white fluid.
Mama, are you still with him? His gaze wavered to the window, staring at the sky in a somewhat dimmed daze.
I hope your not. He managed a small strained laugh. The sound was unpleasant and rang in his ears as his voice cracked.
I hope your happy. Wherever you are. And I hope you got to leave this place. I know you liked it about as much as I did. He closed his eyes, arms unconsciously wrapping around himself in a makeshift embrace.
"Mama, I love you. Come see me soon." He smiled, the action allowed salty droplets to slip into his mouth.
I miss you. O O C I N F O R M A T I O N
Name: Katrina but just call me Kat or something... Not even my family calls me Katrina... v.v;;;
Timezone: GMT+8 (. I live in Malaysia so... That is right, right?)
MSN/AIM;etc: katrina9shareen@hotmail.com (MSN. Go ahead and add me, I'll accept anyone...)
You read the rules, right?: RED. BRIGHT, FLUORESCENT RED. It's such an unappreciated color...Anything else?: Hmmm... I'm sorta noob-ish so forgive my ignorance. And fairly inexperienced seeing as I've only RPed in three other RPs and this being my first time RPing as Thailand... So yea... ^-^;;;
Oh, yes, I'm fourteen (Yay, right on the borderline~) so if I don't know any, um... medical-ish stuff, please forgive me...
Aaah, I'm the daughter of two doctors and the best I can come up with is asthma... I feel so ashamed...-crosses fingers- Please accept me... Please accept me...
