I am overly sarcastic a lot of the time especially to my father who I hate with a passion. One could say I was quite gullible eating up the lies my mother told me, but she was quite the victim making me believe her. I'm rebellious and fight against any kind of authority that tries to tell me how I should be acting or doing. I like to break all the rules in the book. Almost like I'm doing it to retaliate against my father and bring down the good name of Astor. I can be quite caring and loving to my mother and my younger brothers. All of who I am close with.

I can get quite protective of my younger brothers too getting in fights against those that mess with them. I've overheard girls talking about me. Dark and Mysterious, and they say I have an edge to me. Well I guess I am that way in some ways. I also tend to bottle things up until I explode, and that usually doesn't end well. I have this habit of doodling on my arms and stomach as well as my legs. It drives my mom crazy, and has gotten me into trouble at school. It occupies my mind though taking it off of other things.

[smear:#19b3e6]Positive Traits:[/smear:#712494:0]
1)Passionate: Being capable of or expressing deep feeling.
2)Intelligent: Having a high mental capacity; cerebral.
3)Spunky: An inclination toward liveliness and high energy.
4)Spontaneous:Enjoying what naturally occurs; given to acting on healthy impulses.
5)Flirtatious: Inclined to provocative teasing and suggestive attention.
6)Protective: Inclined to safeguard, shield, or carefully supervise the persons or items in one's charge.

[smear:#712494]Negative Traits:[/smear:#19b3e6:0]
1)Rebellious: Flouting the law or resisting authority.
2)Confrontational: Eager to challenge, argue, or confront.
3)Mischievous: Maliciously or impishly troublesome.
4)Gullible: Easily misled or duped.
5)Resentful: Marked by bitterness.
6)Impulsive: Acting on desires, whims, or inclination without forethought.

I was born to parents that I wonder if they ever loved one another. Or if it was just a marriage of connections through money. My mom, an only child, was an heiress to a fortune. My dad came from a long line of billionaires. One of the famous Astors of New York City. Both of them grew up in the life of luxury. Attended the same private schools, and their parents acquaintances. I never knew any of my grandparents for they all died before I was born. Where mom was an only child and interhited everything from her parents my father is one of eight children. Only seven of which are still alive. My dad is a twin as well, and dad and my uncles all go by two names. Which is redundant if you ask me. The only one of his siblings that I really love is my Aunt Olivia. She's also my godmother, and makes sure to visit me at my boarding school to give me presents on my birthday and other occasions.

I was their firstborn but they had three more right after me. It's like they were rabbits in heat or something cause there is only like eleven months between me and my next brother and same amount of time between each of us. I was three when my baby brother was born. Dad wasn't around much when I was growing up. At three I was in one of the most prestigious preschools in Manhattan, and it's continued on that way with private schools that outrank all the others. Mom does like to keep up appearances. I was eight when mom and dad got divorced. I remember seeing him wearing a motorcycle kutte when I would come home and would catch a rare glimpse of him. He was a 69'er, and mom frowned upon that. Whenever they were together anymore they were fighting all the time.

One night when I was supposed to be spending the night with a friend I wasn't feeling good, so I went home. I was twelve then. There was a wild party going on at home. When I finally got to mom's room trying to find her to tell her I was sick I walked in to see my dad asleep in bed with another woman. I think her name was Julieanne. I got sick right then and there, and heard my mom let out a screech. I never saw her, because I passed out after that. When I woke up I was in my room, and the nanny was there taking care of me. Mom finally came to check on me. She was one of those absent mothers, but we all knew she loved us. She told me that the reason her and dad had gotten a divorce in the first place was because he was having an affair. With the woman who I had seen him in bed with. Of course I believed my mom. I had no reason to suspect that she was lying to me. She left on a cruise after that saying she'd be back in a few weeks.

After that I was horrible to my father anytime I saw him. Even Aunt Olivia got after me one day when I said something negative about him. I just ignored what she had said to me, and she had let it go for then. Mom I found out when I was fourteen was into drugs. I accidently walked in on her sniffing something. So I worried about her and her wild partying. She was definitely into drugs. I found her stash one day when she wasn't home. One of these days I was afraid she would overdose and we would lose her. I just prayed that didn't happen.

Dad tried to get custody of us, and that was when I started rebelling. I got expelled from two of the most elite private schools in Manhattan. So I was sent to a boarding school which was more like a military school. I still defied authority rebelling every chance I got even if I got into trouble for it. This was around the time I found out my dad was in the military. What branch or anything else I really didn't give a shit.

Only one person ever made a point to come visit me was my Aunt Olivia. Oh dad tried, but I refused to see him after the first couple of times. My brothers all ended up there as well. Around time I turned fifteen I started partying and drinking. I never took drugs not liking how strung out my mom was seeing her on them. It was an all boys boarding school too, but we still found our way to parties the townies threw and had my fair share of girls. A few days ago I got caught sneaking back in, and got expelled. Dad came and he yelled at me. Of course I ignored him.

Since mom still had custody of us I was sent back to her even though dad tried to fight against it. I was the one who found her. She wasn't breathing. I called for emergency services, but it was too late. She'd been dead for awhile by the time I found her. Dad came bringing my younger brothers with him. All of them were crying. Me I hadn't shed a tear yet. I yelled at my dad blaming this all on him. He didn't say anything just let me vent my feelings. When he tried to hug me when the tears were threatening I pushed him away going to my room, and slammed the door. The next week was a bit of a blur. With the funeral and everything else. I wished my aunt Olivia was there, but I was told she had been hurt and was still recovering. She did call me and told me how sorry she was, and wished that she could be there for me. That was the first time I really cried breaking down on the phone with her.

The day after the funeral I went to my mother's room. Trying to find some comfort in anything. As I was in her closet I found a box hidden behind some things. Inside of it were her diaries. I knew I shouldn't, but I sat down on a cushioned seat in the corner where she used to sit to put on her high heels. As I read my eyes were opening to who my mother truly was. How it was her who cheated on my father, and used his money instead of hers buying extravagant things. The more I read the more sick to my stomach I grew. Everything she had told my brothers and I was a lie. A couple of days later I had finished them all. I don't know how many times I had actually had to run to the bathroom to throw up, but at least I knew the truth now.

Dad came to get us having told us to pack that we wouldn't be coming back here. Our stuff had been loaded up on a moving truck already, and we were sitting there when dad walked in. He told us we were going with him to a town called Washington, California. That we'd be living there from now on. With him, his brothers, and Aunt Elizabeth. I asked what about Aunt Olivia and he said she had her own place there. That I was welcome to go see her whenever I wanted.

It wasn't till we were getting on the jet that I pulled two of mom's diaries or journals as some call them out of my bag and handed them to my dad. He had looked from me to them frowning raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry I believed her lies, but I still love her." I told him letting him have them, and went and took a seat by my brothers feeling his eyes on my back as I did. In a few hours we will be starting a new life out in California. I'm still reeling from losing my mom, and the truth that I read. It hurts deep down all of it, and I don't know how to come back from this.