Rated for language. J Totoro is revealed and more learnt about his insane twin sister and family. Nothing yet about Frankie though...maybe another time eh?
I don’t consider my life difficult or particularly demanding – I don’t live in poverty, I have everything I could possibly ever need and I’m surrounded by family and friends who I know would catch me if I fell (so to speak). Naturally there are complications, but as I’ve often been told, that is just life.
It no longer bothers me that I don’t fit into any of the cute little cliques that often form in schools; I move far too much to even think about joining one of the damn things. All they do is bitch about each other anyhow, and bitching ain’t really that appealing to me – sorry to disappoint. It no longer bothers me that my taste in music is different to everyone else’s; someone has to spice life up a bit after all. It no longer bothers me that I’m not considered normal. Heck, what does normal even mean? I believe ‘normal’ is different to every person…
‘Normal’ to me means almost constantly moving, looking after my twin and caring for an assortment of animals (my mom is a vet and my dad a zoologist, so of course there’s gonna be animals in need of care right?). At a wild guess I’d say ‘normal’ to anyone else means a stable home, maybe a boyfriend or girlfriend, getting wasted in your friends bedroom and a whole clique who obeys your every command and is more than eager to attack the new kids with hockey sticks – you just gotta say the word. Shame I’m always one of the new kids. So, I guess neither my family nor me is normal – lucky we like being abnormal huh?
Plus, I’m happy with my life right now. We’re moving again, and I like it. Yeah, I’ll miss our old house and the friends we made here in Auckland, New Zealand but life just isn’t the same without moving every now and then. We had lived in the same house for four years (and New Zealand for just under six years) – mainly because Skit’s anxiety was getting worse and she needed some stability for a bit. I still thought it was too long, especially because after four years I figured Skit would find it harder to leave. I’m getting ahead of myself aren’t I? I haven’t even introduced myself yet…okay, here we go.
My full name is Jeremy Arthur Totoro, but if you ever use the Arthur you will be in a sufficient amount of pain fairly rapidly. I don’t often get called Jeremy; more often than not it’s Jer or Jerjer (or if you’re Skit then its Jerrykins…shh, don’t tell anyone okay?). I was born on 26th April 1992, making me 17 (well, it’s June now so you might’ve worked that one out for yourself…unless you’ve traveled forwards / backwards in time…have you?). I don’t really know how to describe my physical appearance, I like it and I guess that’s all that matters.
I’m a bit short for my age (I’m 5’6” which I think is just below average, or maybe a lot below average, for a 17 year old male – crap, I’m actually really short?). I wouldn’t say I was fat or skinny; I’m just kinda average all over really y’know? I don’t really have any ‘spare’ fat anywhere or anything. My eyes are dark blue, I won’t bore you with finding some obscure metaphor because my eyes are blue – nothing more, nothing less. My hair is wild to say the least, every morning it gets harder to tame and I’d probably never go out in public if the brush didn’t exist. Or maybe I’d invent the brush? Either way, my hair is really dark brown and stops just above my shoulders. A few years ago I started growing some side bangs, when they’re brushed out they completely cover my left eye and stop at about mouth level. Most of the time they’re brushed, pushed and sometimes clipped out of harms way, I don’t like hiding behind my hair.
My choice of clothes is…interesting. It can be almost anything depending on my mood. I do have this obsession for big black boots, long black coats, band shirts, chains, sometimes a bit of eyeliner and also Converse All Stars. Another reason why I don’t fit into any one clique. I’m comfortable in what I wear and I guess that’s what matters really, fuck what everyone else thinks and wear whatever the fuck you want to. Your life, your choices.
Now that you sort of know me you should probably know some about my family, especially Skit. Skit is the most important to me, don’t get me wrong I love all of my family to death but Skit is just something else. If one of my parents died I’d obviously be immensely upset – but if Skit died, I’d die too. Maybe not immediately or in the literal meaning of the word. But a part, if not most of me, will die as soon as her heart stops beating. I’d like to say Skit feels the same, but you can never be sure with Skit.
Maybe you’ll understand more if I just tell you? I’ll start from somewhere near the beginning.
It really started when Skit and I were 10. Skit had always been short tempered and quick to yell, but ever since she hit 10 she would become absolutely furious for no apparent reason. It’d either be in the middle of the night – I’d wake up to find her screaming into her pillow or punching the wall (after the wall punching she went straight to sleep, making a lot easier to fix her bleeding hands) – or she’d freak out when we out in a museum or something (we haven’t been to a museum for years…). The latter was incredibly rare anyway because at the time we lived on a reservation in South Africa, we did go see a doctor once (I think) and he couldn’t do anything because Skit wasn’t displaying any other symptoms. So, it was just put down to the usual influx in hormones messing with her.
Just after our eleventh birthday we moved to New Zealand and settled down deep in the countryside of South Island. Skit’s anger worsened, and was punctuated by frequent panic attacks and mild phases of depression. On the plane to South Island she had seven panic attacks and almost fainted several times. She spent most of that plane ride on my lap because I was the only one she’d let come within a few inches of her, everyone else wasn’t allowed in her space and she didn’t wanna talk to them. She wanted to talk to me; she wanted to be held by me and me alone. So I held her and in return she told me everything.
She started with Kiki. Kiki came the most and she was honest, caring and trustworthy. She was the sorta girl who’d give $10 to some homeless guy on the street without thinking about it, she was the sorta girl who’d go outta her way to help anyone and everyone. Kiki gave up her seat on buses, Kiki helped elderly women with their shopping and if anyone was upset you could bet anything that Kiki would be there within seconds. Kiki liked to help, Kiki liked to help Skit. Skit told me how good it felt when Kiki took her and showed her how to live properly, when Kiki showed her how to help Skit felt she was invincible. Skit told me how much she loved to help, but without Kiki she just couldn’t because she was so scared and anxious without her Kiki.
Then she told me about Ally. Ally was dominant, demanding and infuriatingly strong. If Ally wanted something, she’d get – no matter what. Skit told me how much she feared Ally, even though she looked exactly like Kiki Ally was her complete opposite. Ally would kick anyone she found living off the streets (sometimes she’d go out of her way just kick them until they bled), Ally was the sorta girl who’d go out of her way just to make someone cry or to make them bleed. Ally smoked, Ally did everything Skit thought was wrong. Ally was abusive. Ally was racist, homophobic and ignorant.. Ally didn’t like anyone who was different. If someone was upset it’d nearly always be Ally who caused it. Skit told me how wrong it felt when Ally was running around her mind, telling her she was a useless fag who deserved to die (this is also when I found out Skit’s orientation…thought you’d like to know). She told me how she couldn’t stop Ally, she was too strong, but if she got really angry then she could make Ally appear and take control.
When either of them took control Skit remembered hardly anything of what had happened, sometimes she’d get flashbacks of helping an old woman cross a street or maybe kicking some poor guy in the balls countless times but she never knew for sure. And she was scared, so scared, of not knowing what she’d done.
After three hours of solid talking and explaining Skit had been exhausted and had slept for the rest of the flight lying across my lap whilst I played with her long brown hair, twirling it absent mindedly between my fingers. While she slept I came up with a conclusion, I’d been interested in mental health disorders since our Uncle Max had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and I knew the general symptoms of most disorders. From the symptoms Skit had described I made a wild guess at Multiple Personality Disorder, it was unlikely to be Schizophrenia because of the memory loss and also the inexplicable anger.
From when we left the plane to when we climbed into the taxi I noted Skit’s behavior, she helped half a dozen people get their bags off the conveyer belt thing because they couldn’t reach (and with her long arms it wasn’t much of a stretch to grab a passing suitcase) and escorted a screaming child to an information point where his parents were soon found. When she returned all our bags had been gathered onto a trolley and as I linked arms with Skit I smiled and mouthed “Kiki?” She nodded.
Since then Skit’s been through a lot. Ally managed to convince her to try and commit suicide several years ago, if you know where to look you can still see the scars, after that Skit has been on anti-depressants. As well as those she has medication to tone down Ally and Kiki – we looked into something that would encourage Kiki and tell Ally to fuck off, but nothing quite like that existed. She also has counseling every week; I go to every single session because of how much Skit trusts me and how little she trusts the counselor. I guess I sorta act as a messenger between Skit and the counselor (and sometimes our parents). I don’t mind, I love looking after Skit. It’s so wonderful to be needed so much y’know? Plus, Skit is getting better (I thought she’d try and push me away since she was getting better) but she pulled me closer to her side and I’m more than happy to stay there.
I always marvel at how we never noticed all of her personalities, but as I said it was always put down to “raging hormones”. Maybe we should have seen a better doctor…
Now that you know about Skit’s medication and personalities you might wanna know about her physical appearance. She’s exactly the same height as me; her hair is a light brown and much longer than mine (it’s precisely three inches off reaching her waist). Her eyes are also blue, but she wears thick-framed black glasses because she’s shortsighted. Skit is all bones, muscle and no excess fat (making her a minuscule US size 4). Like me she has side bangs, but hers are tiny and just reach the top of her glasses frames.
Her tastes in music and clothes are pretty much identical to mine, except she’s into the whole gothic Lolita thing (which really isn’t for me – believe me I’ve tried it). Strangely enough all the frills, lace and bows suit her. We do share a fetish for big boots and long coats though…it’s because we’re just so awesome obviously.
Now onto the parents – as previously mentioned Mom is a vet and Dad a zoologist. They nearly always work together on various research projects, but we’re moving to the USA so that Mom can set up her own surgery in Philadelphia. I guess they just got tired of moving, after all they started moving around the world just after they met (when they were 22) and haven’t really stopped since, not even when Mom was pregnant with me and Skit.
They’ve been to almost every country in the whole and have given me everything I’m ever gonna need – an open mind, loving family and aspiration. Oh, and all the little things like a roof over my head, that counts for a lot too y’know. Always appreciate the small things in life ‘cos you don’t when they might just disappear in a puff of purple smoke, leaving you with absolutely nothing except guilt, anger and a fair amount of shame.
I owe my parents so much – probably my life really. I’ve been a total bitch at times but I’ve never stopped loving them, no matter what I did or said, will do or will say I’m always gonna love those crazy fluffballs (inside family joke…). They’ve been there when I’ve needed them, they’ve never once questioned my aspirations and wow, have they been lenient with me. They let me make my own choices – they’re the perfect, caring parents anyone wishes they have, truth is you do. You just gotta dig a little deeper and help flake off the uptight exterior to find the beauty inside. Try it, you could get a lot outta it.
So, that’s my Family and pretty much all you’ll need to know for now. If I tell you anything else, I’ll have to kill you. I know where you live…
Well, I personally don’t. But my little cat here – Jimmy-Chzz-Popsicles – does, and he’s gonna find ya one day, y’know that? Glad we got that outta the way, it was blocking my sleeping glands…
Okay...I've done chapter one. It's only 41/2 pages (size 12 Helvetica) in word but it's taken a heck of a long time to finish. Sorry for that xP
Anyhow, enjoy. Skittykins is revealed in ALL HER GLORY. I love writing Skit's POV/SOC. I mighth ave to add some in her :3