easy arthur de luca .

[EASY ARTHUR DE LUCA.]

EASY ARTHUR DE LUCA

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" HE TAUGHT ME HOW TO HOLD MY TONGUE AND WAIT TO STRIKE TIL THEIR BACKS WERE TURNED"[/font]
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FULL NAME: easy arthur lazzara este de luca.
AGE: thirty fourr. haha.
MEMBER GROUP: teachurs.
GRADE: - -
BIRTH PLACE: sicily, italy.
RELIGION: catholic.
SEXUALITY: straight, bby.
PLAYBY:

craig owens.[/blockquote]

AND IF YOU SWEAR THAT

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" THERE'S NO TRUTH AND WHO CARES, WHY DO YOU SAY IT LIKE YOU'RE RIGHT? "[/font][/center]

"part of my history is how i was concieved i suppose, and well, my mother has told me this story a few times before and its not the kind that you forget. my dad was a man of highclass, yet he was involved with a lot.. bad people. my mother, was the pretty artist. they fell in love. i have no fucking idea how, my dad isn't the kind of man you fall in love with.. he's so. ew. i don't even want to think about it. whatever, they got married about six monthes after they met, and three monthes after that, they had.. well, me. and by the way. this was all in italy. and my mom had no idea that my dad was involved with the mob. of course this will all change.

i was a kid of many problems, my biggest being his father, constantly brought down by my dad i learned to start snapping back from a very young age. i was cursing by the time i was seven, speaking fouly to my father by the time i was ten, and by the time i was thirteen i had began drinking. Sure, my father saw all this, but he never bothered to worry about his son, he didn't approve of anything i did. i was bright, i really was,i had good grades, wasn't exactly sporty, was naturally good at art, but thats why my father was so disapproving. He wanted me to grow up and be something, i wanted to be someone. it was when he saw how his brother was treated i was furious, i wasn't doing anything wrong, why the hell was his father being such a bastard? i was dragged along to countless business meetings, learned a lot of things about people, but i also learned that no matter how much you hate your family, you have to stick by them. or so my father had made me think so for a while..

we moved to the states when i was four, and we had no problem getting used to being here, cause really, we weren't. we spent all of our time in the house, and when we went out it was to business affairs and always in this car. god, i hated that car. it smelled like leather, and the only time you could actually talk to the driver was with a phone. yes, so i was exposed to the rich kid life style, woohoo. not. it was fucking horrible. i hated everything about it, and i could tell my mother could barely handle it herself. it was when i was seven that i realized why it was safer to stay in the car.

i remember it with detail, i was at this.. party, if you could call it that. everybody was in a suit, the classical music played lightly, my mother was getting drunk so she could bare with the situation, and my father was talking with all those.. other people. whatever. so i was hanging around the band, cause i liked the music, right? and this man comes and pushes me into the hallway. at that point, i had no idea what the hell was going on, and then he muffled me. which i did not see coming. obviously i began to fight back, but he was a big guy and he easily carried me away into the car. i think he drugged me as soon as i was in the car, cause its all a bit blurry. i do remember waking up in this room. god, this empty room, with only one small window. i was in there for days, they gave me food, but it felt like a dream.. or a nightmare. they gave me a pen and a paper though. told me to color so i don't get bored. that was when i fell in love with art, although i wasn't completely aware of it.

when time came they took me out of the room, i actually didn't want to. i wanted to stay there. i felt whole there. i didn't want to leave, but i thought of my mother. i loved her, i hated my father, but i knew i couldn't do this to my mother. when i saw my parents, my mother was crying, i gave my brother the tightest hug ever. a few days later i overheard my parents arguing, and i heard the word divorce tossed into it somewhere. and guess what happened? divorce. and i was hoping, just hoping that i would get to stay with my mom-but of course. i didn't. a month after my mother left, my father was fed up with dealing with my tantrums, even though i was a fucking kid, he took me to a doctor and the doctor said i didn't need him, i needed a therapist. lets fast-forward, and they discover i'm bipolar. woohoo? no. i was already a diabetic fucker. i didn't need that.

highschool, i was a dork. a completely reclusive dork, who slit his wrists in the art studio. my teacher found me though, and at that point nobody wanted to talk to me. all those kids that i used to talk to so briefly, everyone turned away. of course i always had my brother, i always had my mother. i guess my whole life revolved around art. by seventeen i had put a plan together, i got impansipated, by lieing about his relationship with my father.. ok maybe i lied a lot, and i was surprised that my father let me be--but after i was eighteen, legally able to live alone, i saw exactly what his dad had up his sleeve. i was disinherited in a heartbeat, on my eighteenth birthday. it was his way of saying, happy birthday, son! i didn't give up hope though, i knew i'd be able to get a scholarship on my art-i was determined to. He knew that i had to go to college, just to rub it in my father's face.

college-sweethearts are a must-have, and i had no problem finding his. layla love, she was amazing and through my eyes, perfect. we went out for two years, and were the couple. everyone wanted to be us, no lie. partying every other night, getting drunk together, we barely left eachother's sides and rarely argued, only when i was off my meds. but when layla told me she was pregnant, it all changed. i started losing sleep, my tone went from careless to slightly insane, i couldn't handle a kid. sometimes i'd slip up and not take my meds and lose my temper. i couldn't take care of myself, how was i supposed to take care of a kid? what if the kid turned out like me? when Layla gave birth to danny, i just felt everything collapse, my life flash before his eyes. i couldn't deal with it.

i slit my wrists. it was a suicide attempt, an innocent suicide attempt, but layla found me before it was too late. and she saved me. i hated her for it, but she saved my life. i hated her for it. i was in the physc ward for an other ten days until i convinced everyone i was just a bit stressed out, they believed it i guess.. at that point, the arguments began. layla wanted me to be responsible, i couldn't cope with it. i was an alcoholic, and layla had come to loath me as I did her. of course, this was only camaflouging the burning love we had for eachother. two monthes later layla was filed as missing, she left him high and dry. i have no idea where she went, or where i was supposed to go. what i do know is that she left me. danny was about to be put up for foster care, i couldn't let that happen though. i wouldn't let anybody take him away. i started taking care of danny, with a little help from everyone i managed to raise danny.. sort of. i was drunk every other night, was about as mature as danny, there was no difference between taking care of danny or taking care of me. you had to change his diapers, but you could say - ha, my shit stunk so much worse."

texts
to all contacts; "I LOVE YOU."
to dante ( brotha. ); tell dad to fuck himself. love you bai.
to danny; skip class and come pick me up from the airport.

to do list
grade tests. yeah right.
concert this saturday.
get my tattooo finished.
finish gabriel's tattoo.
get a cat.
buy cat food.
debate cat/dog thing with danny.
maybe a dog.
BOTH!
JK.

twitter updates; recent.
OHEASYNOW my son is a douche bag, jsyk.
OHEASYNOW i hate pop bands. pop and rock don't mix, ff u.
OHEASYNOW i'm so old. i'm awesome.
OHEASYNOW ...its been like weeks since i've updated. fuck you, twitter. fuck you.
OHEASYNOW all the dannys i know are pretty fucking rad. js.

MEDICATION:
ADAPHIN stabilizers for bipolar.
CLOZAPINE control symptoms of schizoid disorder.
INSULIN SHOTS diabeetic, type two.
ZING STRESS TABS for partial anemia.

wait, why the fuck are you teaching here?
"HAHA. art teacher got fired for screwing a student or something like that. they called me to talk about danny then asked if i still taught. i said yes, and well, they offer a pretty penny to teach a bunch of crazy kids."

WHY ARE YOU SCARED TO

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[ELIZABETH]