O' HEIGN, thomas patrick

[Deleted]

THOMAS PATRICK O' HEIGN

Full Name: Thomas Patrick O' Heign (That's pronounced "Oh Hayn". I know my name is awful to say, sorry about that.)
Nicknames: Tom, Patty - Generic things. The occasional Tommy, but that's normally used by close friends.

Age: Twenty One
Birthdate: 1/3/1992

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heteroflexible
Occupation: Touring Musician - Well, that's what I call myself. It sounds professional. But right now, I'm just playing small places and looking for a place to settle.

Borough: Greenwich.

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...Oh! Is this where I start talking? Jesus Christ, sorry! I don't really pay much attention to many things. I'm just a little bit flighty, I apologise.

I've never really been good at describing myself. What am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to make myself look good? Am I supposed to make out that I don't like myself? I find things like this quite silly, for those reasons. I never quite know if I should say good things or bad things. And I rather dislike how the latter is much more socially acceptable, don't you? Why isn't there an inbetween? Why aren't we allowed to like ourselves, but acknowledge our faults? It all seems a bit stupid, don't you agree?

Maybe I should start  off with what I look like? I think that would be a good idea. I have naturally red hair, auburn (not  ginger - I'm rather particular about that, seeing as I used to get teased about it), and very blue eyes. Very blue. Maybe not as blue as the clearest sky or the deepest ocean, as the storybooks say - but they're most certainly blue. I suppose the only other thing about me is my height. I'm a really tall fellow, standing at six foot five. I towered over most of my friends back home, who I may just tell you about someday. But I'm not built like a traditional Irishman - I'm much skinnier, and not as muscly; not that I mind of course. I have a few tattoos; stars around my right forearm, a heart and a musical note on my right wrist, a ribbon on my chest. Just something here and there. Not many.  Um. I normally wear denim a lot? I think that's all.

Hm. What else? People like to know a lot about other people before they decide to get to know them, y'see, so I need a bit more than just what I look like, don't I? So... maybe me. Maybe I should say what I'm like, so that people know what they're talking to? That would be a good move, yes? Just so you know what to expect.

I like to think that I'm a good person. I like to be kind, and I like to help people in any way that  can, even if that way is just giving directions. Which, for the record, I am crap at, seeing as I'm not from around here. But it's not bad! I do make sure that people get to where they need to be! I don't just send them off in random directions and pray to god they won't get lost! Gosh, that made me sound terrible, didn't it? That's not even on topic! Good going, Tom, good going.

...Maybe that's another thing that I should say. I'm not the best with words. I'm in no way shy or introverted, but there's something called a filter in a person's brain that didn't get built into me. So when I say one thing, I might mean the  exact opposite. I don't mean to make you feel unhappy! Sometimes it just happens. I'm really sorry in advance. I like talking to people, but I'm a little "socially slow", so please be patient with me! I'd like to be your friend a lot, if you have the patience to tolerate that. Or even if you don't. I don't mind, you could shout at me for it if you wanted. I'd understand.

I really like music. It's a profession for me, of sorts. I'm probably what most people would call a dabbler, though - I am passionate about it, and I do love it a lot, but it's just finding a permanent place for it in my life. And yes, a job like mine might sound like a permanent place for it, but you'd be surprised how easy it is for something like that to get thrown away for something more important. For now, though, I'm happy with just my guitar and my tatty notepad, where some of my favourite original songs are hidden. Oh, but don't worry! I'm not shy about them at all - if you want to see them, just ask me, okay? Just so long as you don't try to steal them, I'll be fine with letting you see or hear them.

I think that my worst trait is not something common, like my temper or my attitude (as a matter of fact, these are relatively calm and docile) - it's probably the fact that I am very lazy. Or maybe the fact that I don't like speaking to people that I'm not familiar with (doesn't mean I won't, mind; it's just a little uncomfortable). I suppose that what I'm trying to say is that I'm quite a flawed human being. But then, aren't we all? Flaws are what make us all special and different from each other - if none of us were flawed, then we'd all be the same! And doesn't that sound boring? I think it does. Imagine being the same as everyone around you! That would be no fun at all - you wouldn't ever feel special! But that's the thing - you are, I am, we all are!

...Oh. And as you probably got from that, I'm quite an optimistic person. Always ready to look on the bright side of life. That's a good thing, isn't it?

As for my fears and things. I don't like heights. And this one might sound a little proverbial, I fear oblivion. Now, promise me that when I tell you I fear oblivion, it isn't the same thing as fearing death. We don't know that death is oblivion. We don't know if we're going to be greeted by St. Peter at the pearly gates or by the orange flames below, or even if we're going to be greeted by anything.  So there's no point in fearing what we don't know anything about. Waste of energy, if you ask me. No, the type of oblivion I'm scared of isn't that. It's not having a purpose. I haven't found mine yet, and I'm scared that I'm never going to, and that I'm leading a pointless life. And I know I need to make my own  purpose, I'm just not sure how. But I'm sure it'll come eventually.

Secrets? I have a few, maybe. But then, who doesn't? I'm not an interesting person at all when it comes to secrets though, I'm afraid. Maybe the fact that I'm the one in school that they called "the guy with the dead sister"? Oh, and definitely that I'm a huge nerd. Secretly, I'd much rather spend a night curled up on the sofa watching the Harry Potter films or Doctor Who or something than going out drinking with friends. Which is what makes travelling from place to place touring quite hard - I don't get much time to myself to do things like that. Or WiFi for Netflix.

What I want to do with my life, I'm not quite sure yet. I'm yet another traveler, trawling the earth in search of a life and in search of a purpose, somewhere to belong I suppose. Hey, maybe that's something I want to do! Yes, find somewhere nice  and settle there instead of just drifting around. Maybe with somebody too? I think that would be nice. I could find a lovely little lass to call my own one day. One thing's for definite - I never want to have to give up my music, even when there's grandkids hanging off of my arms. In fact, especially not when there's grandkids hanging off of my arms. Maybe I could show them a thing or two about the "olden days". I'm not sure yet. But that sounds like a nice life, I think. Don't you think so too? I'd be satisfied with that.

I'm running out of things to say about myself now! Gosh, this is difficult, isn't it? I'm down to talking about the really stupid things now. I bite my lip when I lie, does that count as something? And then I'm always pulling my long sleeves down over my hands, especially when I'm uncomfortable. And I am a chronic nail-biter - I started just before I hit puberty and I haven't stopped since. I really need to work on that; it's a really horrid little habit, isn't it? I should really stop doing that. And saying the word "really".  It feels like it's getting repetitive - sorry!

I have nothing else to say, really. Oop, there I go again. I never used to say "really" so often, I don't know why I've suddenly started doing it. Hang on. Never used to. Of course! You don't know anything about my past, do you? God, I'm a forgetful guy sometimes. I apologise profusely - I'll try not to forget things like this in the future. Promise.

Well, as you've already seen me mention, I'm from Ireland, not far from Dublin. I say Dublin, because that's the one that everyone knows. If I said Dún Laoghaire, you wouldn't have a clue what I was talking about and you'd probably put me in a loony bin or something. Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but the sentiment is the same. Anyway, I was born in Ireland in 1992, to parents who, defying the Irish stereotype, were not and are still not particularly religious. They weren't drunkards, either. And before you ask, they aren't now. But I just find it funny that people pin every Irish person as either Religious or a Drunkard. Those are some pretty lame stereotypes, aren't they? Ireland needs to up its production value.

Sorry, not related. Anyway, my first memory is holding my baby sister when I was just a little boy, no more than three at oldest. I had to be very careful, so they said - she was like a china doll, and I'd do some horrible damage to her if I dropped her. And who would want to do that to their own sibling? That's awfully mean. Especially when they're just a baby. So I sat very still, and held her very carefully. She must have been really small as a baby, but I wouldn't know - ironically, I was quite a tiny little thing, so everything looked huge to me. At the time, she looked like just a normal size baby, maybe even a little bigger than that. Not as big as some things, but still - quite big for a baby!

She was called Marigold. A bit of a hipster name, if you ask me, but it was still pretty. Well done, parents, I salute you.

So me and Marigold were basically normal kids - we laughed, we fought (more often than not, but only because we loved each other, so I thought), we pulled ridiculous pranks on our parents (and, at times, each other for aforementioned reasons.). The idyllic Irish countryside was the backdrop for our childish antics. And yes, maybe some things did get out of hand, and sure, maybe I did end up telling Marie that I hated her sometimes. But I never meant it, ever. We had a pretty happy childhood, because we were normal. We were a normal family, with normal disputes, and it made me feel good. We might not have been normal people, but that's a different story

And then came primary school, and then secondary. I was always intelligent - not a freaky child genius, but I wasn't exactly a complete dunce either. I as average - nothing more, nothing less. I still hated school with a fiery burning passion, though, even though I had no need to. I kept a calendar on my bedroom wall and counted down the days until I would leave, and the closer the day got, the more excited I became. School was never inherently  bad, but I still absolutely hated it. It was boring, and restrictive, and I despised it.

Marigold, however, was far more reserved in her views about school. She wasn't as outspoken as I was to start with, but more so when it came to schoolwork and school in general. Whenever she was asked about school, she wouldn't complain, nor would she sing its praises. It was always simply "okay" - no more than that. When pressed further, her answers would become more and more monosyllabic, until she was finally left alone. Then, she would shut herself off, and I started seeing a lot less of her than I did before, with only the loud music pulsing from her room as a reminder that she still existed.

At first, I thought not seeing her was a relief. She was an annoying little sister - the less time she spent bugging me, the better. I had homework to do, things to achieve. I didn't need distractions, especially not from  Marie. Marie was a big girl - she could do things by herself now. She didn't need me to babysit her, and even if she did, that didn't mean that I was responsible for everything that she did. Don't get me wrong, I still loved her - I was just glad that she was giving me more space.

But after a while, I did miss her. She was hardly around us anymore; she just went straight up to her room after school. Annoying or not, she was my sister, and the lack of time she was spending with us was starting to worry me a little bit. She always used to be so open, and suddenly, she was so quiet and withdrawn. Something was not right, and even though I wan't sure what that something was, I just knew that something was going on. And it made me so, very uncomfortable, beyond what I could even imagine. 

I distinctly remember our last conversation, and to some extent, I wish that I didn't. I remember going into her room, and her looking up at me, and then... tears. Lots of them. As I held her and as she cried, I finally knew that there was definitely something wrong, and I asked her to get help. Offered her help. Did something, just so long as it involved help. She shook it off, told me that she was just feeling a little down, that things would be okay soon, but that she appreciated the concern. And then, as I was walking out of the room, I heard her mutter something that I didn't quite catch. But now, six years after, I'm absolutely sure it was "Take care, Tommy."

I'd rather not talk about the time I saw her after that. Some things are just too vividly remembered to put into words. I still remember finding her like that. Maybe she didn't think she was lying to me when she told me that everything would be okay soon - maybe this was her version of okay. Maybe she was happy not existing. I'll never know what was going through her head, but what I did and still do know is that she's gone, and that she isn't going to be returning again.

I was in my second year of A Levels when it happened - seventeen, almost eighteen. I wasn't known as Tom anymore. I was known as "Marigold's brother", said in a sad. reverent tone that was usually saved for funerals. Every time I heard it, it was just another little stab through the heart. It reminded me that, yes, I was her brother, and I was supposed to watch out for her and talk to her and love her, and it's only now that she's gone that I understand that. I sometimes wonder if that was the reason she did it - maybe she though no one cared. No one loved her. But she couldn't have been more wrong.

Eventually, I got sick and tired of being just "Marigold's brother". I'd been honing my musical ability for years now, and I'd gotten a good grade for it at AS level. I loved it so much. And that was when I started wondering if I could make a living off of it. So I started playing gigs at local pubs and clubs, once I'd hit eighteen of course, and they usually went down well. But even though I loved Dún Laoghaire, I still felt like there was too much Marigold still there. It was haunting me, and so was she, and I needed to be free of those memories.

So I packed my bags, said goodbye to my mum and dad, and starting touring around places. I've stayed pretty much everywhere imaginable - seedy motels, sides of roads, the occasional nice hotel. But I've still not found somewhere to settle, and I think that's all I want. Somewhere nice that doesn't constantly remind me of her, somewhere where I can be Tom, and not "Marigold's brother". And that ay take a while to find, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to manage it. It looks likely that I will, too, which is reassuring.

I haven't gone into a lot of detail here, have I? I'm sorry that I haven't, but please tell me that you can understand. Even after all these years, it still hurts a little bit, hearing her name, because I was older and I was supposed to look after her, and I didn't. And honestly, I'm just trying to get past the fact that, in a way, I'm a little bit responsible. So please forgive me for not talking too much about the past? Please?

Thank you. I think you're very sweet.

I'll go now, so that you don't have to put up with my ramblings anymore. But hey - now you know a lot more about me! If you think that's a good thing, which I hope you do, because I like you a lot! I think you're a great listener - maybe we could do this again sometime? I really enjoyed it, I think. I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I was going to. Maybe it's because I'm talking to you, and you actually listened to me. Thank you so much. Bye for now!

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OOC Name: Chloe

How long have you been RP'ing for?: A year and a bit
Timezone: GMT (and I like to go to bed early bc I am a good girl yes)

Contact: PM would be great for now. I'm not finding much time to get on Skype. Those of you who have my Whatsapp can get to me there as well. ^-^

Secret Answer: Samoht

[ADMIN]

!◦ ◦ A C C E P T E D ◦ ◦ !
Welcome to Reckless Wanderers!
i absolutely adore this app! and really reaally reeeeeaallyy love tom! (APP REFERENCE BC HE KEPT ON SAYING REALLY, GEDDIT?)
i think he's going to be a wonderful addition to our site and i can't wait to see him around and spreadin' that optimism around.
 

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