Ryo Kawada D9 Done

Ryo Kawada / Sixteen / Male / District 9

I'm not who everyone thinks I am. My family is all different than me. They look different than me. They act different than me. Everything about them is different even the last name. I was adopted when I was born. My mother named me before she gave me up, and her friends kept the name. My father died before I was born. Nobody knows why though. My mother's friends don't even know. Well, they may, but they refuse to tell me. I guess it's for my safety. I'll never know. I live in a family that has three children not including me. I wouldn't even consider myself a child of there's if they didn't raise me from birth. It doesn't matter to me though. Parents aren't just biological parents. I have biological parents, well my mother anyway, but I don't consider her my mother. Katelyn, and Thomas are my parents because they raised me. They love me and care for me. They don't care I'm different. They treat me like I'm their own, and I respect them for it. I love them like I would my biological parents, and that is what matters.

Appearance

Am I a handsome young man? It's a question I always ask myself. I like to think I am, but I am going to let others answer that for me. I'm tall and lanky. I've been told I'm just skin stuck on bone. I don't have many muscles either. I stand roughly five foot two inches tall, and I weigh approximately one hundred pounds. I'm not this guy that's built. I never wanted to be a strong guy because it doesn't matter to me if I'm strong or not. I enjoy running. I'm built for speed. The first trait I want people to notice when they look at me is my hair. I'm in love with my hair. My hair is my favorite part of my life. I have short, dark black hair that lays flat on my head. Sometimes I will style it with some grease, but that's very rare. I can run my fingers through my hair to make it stand up in the front, but people tend to laugh over it. It doesn't bother me any.

Below my bangs, sits my black eyebrows. They are extremely thin. It looks like someone took a pencil and drew a line across my face. It's kind of funny when people look at me because I can see them starting to laugh. Why laugh at how I look? Below my eyebrows sit my dark brown, angular eyes. I have dark bags that sit under my eyes. Most people would say I never sleep, but I do sleep. I blame it on my sleepless nights when I was younger. My nose is large coming to a point at the nostrils. My lips are pink and thin almost always forming a smile unless it's meant to be serious. I have dimples from smiling so much. When I speak, it sounds like I'm speaking with my mouth full. It's such a horrible sound. My clothes I wear on neat because I want to look neat when I'm around people. I don't want others to see me as a slob because I'm not a slob.

Personality

I don't know what others think about me, and in all honesty I don't care. I'm my own person, and I can live my life how I want it. If I want to be mean to someone, I'll be mean to them. I don't want to be mean to people, but at times it's necessary. If someone disrespects me, I'll treat them the way I was treated. I live by the saying treat others the way you want to be treated. I'm not afraid to retaliate if someone forces me to. I prefer to respect people, and I want to be nice to them, but people make me mad, and I'm not afraid to show it. Why are people like that? Why am I mean to people who are mean to me? I'll tell you why. I used to not retaliate to people. I would try to ignore them, but I would end up being walked all over. I'm not a door mat; therefore, nobody should walk over me. I deserve to be treated with respect, and I'll get that respect one way or another. I don't care what I have to do to make people respect me, but I'll let them know if they disrespect me.

I used to trust people too easily. I would have trust for them as soon as I met them. I would trust them before I knew them, and it slapped me across the face. People would hurt me, and I would place my trust back in them. I would give them a second chance because everyone deserves a second chance right? The cycle would repeat itself. I would en up hurt again. I would end up with my heart shattered by the pain, but the trust I had for that person stayed the same. I was the fool. I was fooled twice. "Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me." I heard this saying several times. I didn't believe in it though. I believed in giving everyone multiple chances, but all that has changed. I have to get to know people before I place trust in them. I won't trust someone I first met. I'm afraid of being hurt again. I'm afraid they'll slap me across the face. I've placed a protective barrier around myself to prevent that from happening because I was hurt for the last time, and it's my responsibility to make sure it never happens again.

I struggle making decisions for myself. I always want others to give me their input before I decide. I ask others what I should decide because it's easier for me to do what others say I should do. I want to do what others say I should do even if it's wrong. If I'm asked to make a decision, I usually respond with 'I don't know,' or 'I don't care you pick.' It's just easier for me. "Ryo, you have to make decisions for yourself. Sometimes, it's best if you make your own decisions." My mama tells me this. She tells me I need to make my own decisions, but it's a lot easier said than done. I try to make my own decisions, and at times I'm capable of it, but I usually want others to help me decide. "But mama, I know I need to make my own decisions, but I don't know what to do. I don't know if it's right or not. I want it to be the right decision, but others have to help me reach it." We've gotten in many fights over me being indecisive. It's something I'll work on, but for now, it's for the best if I receive help.

History

When I was born, my biological mother gave me up to her friends. I'll never know why she gave me to them. I'm not sure if I want to know. It's something that weighs on my mind heavily. I wasn't good enough for my own mother. I don't even know my biological father. I've never seen him before, and I never want to see him. Part of me wonders if he's still alive. My mama and papa, my adoptive parents, have raised me since I was born. Apparently my mother named me because my last name is different. My last name is Kawada. My parents last name is Glanville. Cherry, and Marcus Glanville. I want their last name. I don't want my mother's last name because she didn't want me. I wasn't good enough for her. I have two sisters, and one brother. Misty and Nicolas are the twins that are the same age as me. Haley is twelve. She's two years younger than me. I was born ten months before the twins so I'm the oldest child in the family, and it has it's sweet advantages, but it has many disadvantages.

I'll never have a brother/sister relationship with my siblings. I'm not biologically related to them. I'll never understand what it's like to have a brother or a sister because I have none of my own. I'll always be best friends with Misty and Nicolas though. Sometimes, I feel like I like Misty far too much seeing as she is my adoptive sibling. I find myself attracted to her, but I wouldn't dare saying anything. Haley hates me for some reason. I think she knows how much I like Misty, but she wouldn't tell her. Sometimes, to escape from the world, I go for walks with Misty. We walk through the rain together laughing about everything. She may like me like I like her, but our parents can never find out. I'll never tell her, and if she likes me, she'll never tell me. When we are walking together, we never worry about anything. Every worry of the world goes away. I have nothing to gear when I'm around her, and I feel I should push myself away from her because I don't want to hurt her.

"We should go home before mom and dad start worrying about us. We've been gone far too long." She smiles and I feel my face blush. It's an interesting feeling. My cheeks become hot like they've been set on fire, and I turn my eyes away from her. I nod my head. "Yeah, we should be going. We don't wanna make mama or papa mad." I start running hand in hand with Misty as friends nothing more heading back home. I wish it was more, but it'll never be more. I can't disappoint Papa. I don't ever want to explain to him I love his daughter. She's technically my sister, but I don't count it because we look nothing like. We speak nothing alike. We don't have similar personalities or anything. We run through the rain that fell on our heads chilling me to the bone. Water runs down my face like a waterfall falling into a lake. It's an amazing feeling until we open the door to the house, and my heart drops to the floor. Behind the door stands Papa and he's not looking very happy.

oDair

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