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⋯⋯⋯⋯ ⋯⋯⋯⋯ ⋯⋯⋯⋯ ⋯⋯⋯⋯ ⋯⋯⋯⋯ ⋯⋯⋯⋯ ⋯⋯⋯⋯ ❝ ＨＥＹ， ＴＨＡＴ ＳＯＵＮＤＳ ＬＩＫＥ ＭＹ ＬＵＣＫ！ ❞
xxx━xxx━xxx━xxxｉ ｇｅｔ ｔｈｅ ⊰ ｓｈｏｒｔ { ↓↓ } ｅｎｄ ⊱ ｏｆ ｉｔ
xxxxＯＨ， Ｉ ＬＯＶＥ ＴＯ ＢＥ ♛ ⋮ ❝ＴＨＥ ＵＮＤＥＲＤＯＧ❞
hey, uh. hi. i'm augustus carver, nice to uh, meet you. or whatever. augustus means 'great' or 'accorded a great deal of respect, esp. because of age, wisdom, or character.' it was chosen by my mom after augustus, the founder of the roman empire who brought about a time of peace called the pax romana. (my mom was kind of a history buff.) and uh, carver is an occupational name for a carver of wood or a sculptor of stone, devrived from the middle english word for 'to cut or carve'. i'd like to, uh, be called gus. just gus. not augustus, or august, and especially not 'little gussie'.
i didn't make many friends throughout the supposed 'best four years of my life', and the few friends i do have are spread throughout the school. the 'jocks', the 'misfits', the 'nerds', etc. as far as like, uh, those few friends go... i like tess deville more than the others. she's heavy on the sarcasm, but it's smart sarcasm and i can dig it. and, uh, i may or may not have a thing for nebraska meriwhether. it was by choice that i made so few friends, only because i'm one to keep to myself. the general rule i live by is, don't bug me and i won't bug you. i'd like to think that it's not too much to ask. unfortunately, i have a habit of lashing out due to my quick temper, so it's easier to be left alone than to risk it. on the bright side, i've learned to be able to keep myself composed in most situations. because of ... my dad past experiences, i've got a whole heckuva lot of determination where keeping myself (and my temper) in check is concerned. i've been called a walking encyclopedia because of my intelligence, which is admittedly above average for your run of the mill teenage boy.
uh, okay. i was born on november sixteenth. i'm seventeen years old and a senior in high school. it's almost over, thank god. i was born and raised in north carolina. i've never left the state, let alone the country. and uh, well, my mom left my dad and i shortly after my fifth birthday. my dad had always been a heavy drinker, and whenever he drank, he got violent and had made a habit of taking it out on whoever was nearby. it was usually my mom, and i guess... i guess she just wanted out. after my mom left, there was only one person left for my dad to take his anger out on: me. it started out as just verbal abuse. shouting at me, calling me names. whatever. by now, of course, it's escalated to full blown physical abuse. i've shown up to school late with nothing but a broken nose and a black eye to excuse me, but no one's asked. not a single person. not that i'd tell them anyways. i live on what's considered the 'other side of the tracks', the bad part of town. it's run down and falling apart. our house is about the same. my dad can't hold down a steady job, so i'm the one paying the bills and putting dinner on the table. i have a part-time job at the local diner as a waiter, which pays well enough.
all things considered, my life could be worse.
