MALORIE
AGGRESSIVE STRUGGLING BROODER
AGGRESSIVE STRUGGLING BROODER
It's not easy staying out of it. It's a lot of swallowing your pride and holding back opinions. But to Malorie it's better than all the drama, all of the involvement. She struggles daily with this; along with a hard love for whiskey like her father, which ends with lots of bottled feelings that come leaking out in bouts of violence towards the people she cares about most. These problems make it hard for her to keep a job, and she recently dropped out of college.
DON'T WANNA BE LIKE DADDY
Malorie has struggled for years with alcoholism(like her father), but due to two different periods of sobriety, especially the most recent one, she has come to realize that her life is basically s**t. She hates where she is, how she's given up her dreams and aspirations for a bottle of 12$ whisky. Each day she wakes up saying 'I will not drink', but usually it doesn't work out the way she wants it to. More often than not, Malorie finds herself at the bottle. Maybe she got fired, or she found an old picture of her dad, or maybe she just thought one drink couldn't hurt; it doesn't matter because in the end that's where you can usually find her.
On days when she is sober, she tries to think of what she is going to do with her life. She wants to go back to school, but struggles to get the paperwork in on time, and maybe one day save up enough to do something her with dads house. As for now though the alcohol has a strong grip on her life, and Malorie feels like she's barely staying afloat- something she is determined to change.
GOTTA SMOKE?
No matter where she is, Mal can always find at least one smoke when she needs one.
ANYTHING ELSE?
FULL NAME: Malorie Kelly Klimp
BIRTHDAY AND AGE: July 14th, 1991 making her 25 years old
GENDER AND ORIENTATION: Female and Pansexual
FAMILY AND POSSESSIONS: She has no family, though she assumes her mom is alive- of course she hasn't talked to her in years, but she feels like she'd know if she had died. Her father died when she was 22, he left her nothing except his shitty run down two bedroom house. She hasn't been in his room since he died. She owns a 1990 geo metro, and it is puke green.
LOOKS: She is tall for a girl, topping off at 6' 1", and built like a beanpole. She has freckles all over her body, and sandy brown hair that comes down to her shoulders and shaved on the left side; she usually had it pulled into a ponytail that sits noticeably to the right side of her head. She tends to look pissed off, but that's probably the consistent hangover. She is tan, but not too tan, and has 3 tattoos. One on her left inner arm of a big eye inside a triangle with watercolor style paint splatter behind the lines, another on her left bicep of the triquetra in green ink, and shaky, homedone letters on her right knuckles that says 'WELP'. She has her septum pierced and her ears gauged to about a 0.
DREAMS: To become a well-known sculptor and go back to finish college
FEARS: Ending up just like dad, the dark and strange noises at night
PET PEEVES: gum-smacking, being asked the same thing twice, being told no, close minded people, little kids
HOBBIES: sculpting, meditation, jokes, beer pong
QUIRKS: she picks at her scabs and never lets them heal, she twirls her hair when she's nervous or bored, when she is angry she's likely to punch a wall, when she drinks she is violent and tends to start fights, and she has some mean road rage
FAVORITE
food: pizza with no sauce, chicken and green peppers
drink: whiskey and coke
dessert: nothing, she hates sweet s**t
color: grass green
season: fall
holiday: st. patricks day
bands: band of horses, the clash, xxyyxx
animal: snake
ALCOHOLISM HISTORY
Mal's dad was always a drinker. He drank hard and long, and it chased off everyone in his life besides his daughter, who's mother had left them both even before her father's problem began. She grew up with that bottle close by, and as she got older the bottle became part of her life as well. She partied high school away, but sobered up when her dad went into the hospital during college.
Things were looking good for Mal, off the bottle and focused on life, she looked like she was going places. One day she would move away, escape her father and the history of her life and start over somewhere new. Be someone new. She threw herself head first into her sculpting and art classes, drowned herself in beauty instead of whisky.
Then her father died. It shouldn't have been a bad thing, he had never been a good father, but he was all the family she had. It was like she was a house, leaning on a single pillar, and it gives out, leaving behind rubble that might still resemble a home, but has no function. In her sorrow the bottle called, and she came crawling back to it's amber embrace. She found her muse gone and her will depleted. Before she knew it weeks had passed and her classes were forgotten, adding a college flunkie to her list of shitty decisions. Just another excuse to drown herself in whatever alcohol she could get her hands on.
Jobs came and went, mortage bills piled up every couple of months till a good, almost sober month happened. A month of earthy clay and clarity; beauty and peace. In this moment, Mal realized she hated drinking, hated the way it felt how she was so much like her father and promised she'd never go back.
In the end, she couldn't hold out, and when the siren sang from the liqour isle, she found herself saying 'just one shot, just one beer,' until she was just one shot, just one beer too deep. It was then she realized she had lost to her demons. For a while she was too deep to care, and gained a reputation as a local drunk. Just like her dad.
That was the thought that brought her head to break that amber water, and now each day is a fight; one she usually loses. But she still fights, determined to get clean, on her own. She doesn't want help, she doesn't want pity, she just wants to move on with life. Get back to school, make herself a name, get out of this town and this history. First though, she must face and defeat this demon that holds her so tight.
Things were looking good for Mal, off the bottle and focused on life, she looked like she was going places. One day she would move away, escape her father and the history of her life and start over somewhere new. Be someone new. She threw herself head first into her sculpting and art classes, drowned herself in beauty instead of whisky.
Then her father died. It shouldn't have been a bad thing, he had never been a good father, but he was all the family she had. It was like she was a house, leaning on a single pillar, and it gives out, leaving behind rubble that might still resemble a home, but has no function. In her sorrow the bottle called, and she came crawling back to it's amber embrace. She found her muse gone and her will depleted. Before she knew it weeks had passed and her classes were forgotten, adding a college flunkie to her list of shitty decisions. Just another excuse to drown herself in whatever alcohol she could get her hands on.
Jobs came and went, mortage bills piled up every couple of months till a good, almost sober month happened. A month of earthy clay and clarity; beauty and peace. In this moment, Mal realized she hated drinking, hated the way it felt how she was so much like her father and promised she'd never go back.
In the end, she couldn't hold out, and when the siren sang from the liqour isle, she found herself saying 'just one shot, just one beer,' until she was just one shot, just one beer too deep. It was then she realized she had lost to her demons. For a while she was too deep to care, and gained a reputation as a local drunk. Just like her dad.
That was the thought that brought her head to break that amber water, and now each day is a fight; one she usually loses. But she still fights, determined to get clean, on her own. She doesn't want help, she doesn't want pity, she just wants to move on with life. Get back to school, make herself a name, get out of this town and this history. First though, she must face and defeat this demon that holds her so tight.
