Post by Will Spencer on Jul 22, 2016 1:51:50 GMT
William James Spencer
PLAY BY: Daniel Sharman
♦ THE BASICS ♦
AGE: Twenty-four
GENDER: Male
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
POSITION: Local - college student♦ THE FREEFORM ♦
Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
--Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Higher Pantheism”
Why yes, I did just quote Tennyson. No I’m not a pretentious twat who will talk about how cultured and sophisticated I am. Frankly, I’ve got the mouth of a sailor and the amount of fucks I give are none. However, I do think that quotes and poetry have slowly gotten worse over time. The eloquency in which words are strewn together is lacking and it’s more of a haphazard mess of nonsense.
But I digress.
Name’s William James Spencer. Will. If you refer to me as William, you’re either my best mate (and there is only one) or my mother and frankly the odds of that are slight. So Will or don’t speak to me at all. Yeah? I’m twenty-four years old, working on my degree in medicine at the college here. Why do I talk with such a thick accent if I’m studying in America? Because I’m English you bloody wanker and I rather like my accent the way it is, so I don’t see the point in changin’ it much, d’you? Thought not.
As you may’ve noticed, I’m a bit of an ass myself, but the way I look at it:
We all are men,
In our own natures frail, and capable
Of our flesh; few are angels
--Shakespeare, King Henry VIII
Shakespeare had the right idea. I wasn’t born to make everyone else happy.
An orphan’s curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man’s eye!
Seven days, seven nights,
I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”
That curse would be called my 'aggressive anger' problem. Or as I've been told by my therapist, my volatile anger problem.
Now, I had a normal life in England. Grew up in London, moved around a bit because of my dad’s job, but always stayed in the general area that I was familiar with. It was my parents, me and Smiles, my little brother. We were a quaint little family, all got along well, but there was something always a little bit off with me, and I could feel it. One small thing that went wrong in my day and I would get so angry, I'd throw a tantrum. A normality for small children, yeah? Not like this. I'd throw myself on the ground and punch the floor as hard as I could or I'd throw something. I was a destructive little nugget when I was angry, but I never got violent with my family.
It was at school that my aggression really got me into trouble, if someone said anything that I didn't like or took something of mine, I'd lose it. My intention wasn't to hurt anyone, but I did. Almost every time I lost my cool, it ended in destruction of property or someone being sent to the nurse. I was placed in anger management courses early on and my parents got me into therapy early on because they knew it would only get worse the older I got.
By the time I was eighteen, I had a grasp on managing my outbursts, but there were still moments. I channeled everything into school, as I was intent on getting into Oxford, although I wasn't sure for what yet. Everything was going well up until an accident that took my parents out of the picture and made me a legal guardian of my twelve year old brother.
I guess that's when I really exploded.
Between two worlds life hovers like a star,
'Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
How little do we know that which we are!
How less what we may be!
--Lord Byron, Don Juan
I didn’t last long at Oxford. The stuck up little twats that thought they ran the place, the incompetent professors, and the proximity to my family was all too much for me. I’d gotten myself into a fair amount of trouble from back talking the Lit teacher and practically showing him up in his own class. For God’s sake though, he didn’t know the difference between Tennyson and bloody Coleridge! Eventually I had them convinced to transfer me. I don’t know if it was lucky or unlucky to be shipped off to America though.
Ah well, it’s where I met my best mate.
Friendship is one mind in two bodies. —Meng-tzu
Taking a defense class had been my way of managing my anger and making me focus on control. I was fifteen years old, tall, lean and I had a grace that very few could manage. The lot of them looked like bumbling morons just trying to plant a kick on their target. It was pathetic. My comment hadn’t been met with any laughs though and it insteaded landed me in a match with Gabriel who was the assistant instructor. Four years older than me, a wee bit taller and perhaps more filled out, but he didn’t know how scrappy I could be. I was an angsty teenager with anger problems. My odds looked good.
Until I ended up flat on my back in less than three minutes.
I didn’t like to be bested, still don’t in fact, so I kept challenging him for fights in class. He taught me how to fight better with each time that he beat me until we became a pretty even match. I caught up to him in size, though I’m a titch shorter than him and my inner animal learned how to be tamed. Honestly the whole time he was with me, he shaped me into a somewhat decent person. He gave me a direction, a path to follow and I allowed for him to be the one person I trusted. However, Mr. Smooth-talking Gentleman didn’t quite improve my general attitude and couldn’t rein in the douchey-ness that is my whole personality.
I’m twenty-four years old, studying to be a cardiologist. I haven’t spoken to anyone in my family since I was thirteen years old and I only know anything about them from checking up on them online. I’ve managed a grasp on my anger, though I can feel it gnawing at me. I don’t do personal relationships, I don’t do romance and I don’t require any friends, just enemies. With that being said, I guess a part of me doesn’t want to be a monster. I want to save people. Because if I can’t save myself, then maybe I can save them.♦ THE PLAYER ♦
USERNAME: Trix
AGE GROUP: Twenty
EXPERIENCE: Probably 8 years by now
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? Heh
