full name Ritchie Nicolas Colburn
age 17
birthday 10 December
born in Zzyzx, California
family
mother Lena Colburn, 41--physical therapist
father Brent Colburn, 45--computer technician
sister Eliot Colburn, 23--fashion major
likes
☉ My pets (a Japanese bobtail named Jellybean and golden retriever named Diesel)
☉ Marvel comics
☉ Burger King
☉ Theater arts
☉ Collecting memoirs
☉ Alice in Wonderland
☉ Imperfection
☉ Curves
☉ Aquatic life
☉ Origami birds
dislikes
☉ Critical people
☉ Too-loud music
☉ Being pushed around
☉ Violence and war
☉ Small flying insects
☉ Reading out loud
☉ Winter weather
☉ Doctors
☉ Liars
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So you want to know what I look like, huh? You think I'm gonna tell you? No way! Figure it out for yourself. But oh, there’s a catch: I’m always in a crowd – another face, another body. It would be downright impossible to spot a single person in a large group like that if you didn’t already know what you were looking for. But you don’t need to know what I look like to be able to recognize me for the first time – essentially, appearance means little to nothing.
If I had a Mohawk and lots of body mods and wore baggy clothes with spiky bracelets, it doesn’t mean I’m some punk. That’s called stereotyping, kiddies. I could just like to dress that way, though, and not actually fit the stereotype at all. Maybe I was actually really nice and liked hugs and romantic movies, despite my dangerous exterior shell. I could be the sweetest person you ever met, but you probably wouldn’t give me much of a chance because I definitely wouldn’t have looked very nice like that.
But that’s okay for you! I don’t look like that at all. I’m not very sweet either, just goofy. All I’m gonna tell you about my appearance though, is that, for one: I have messy blonde hair. Corn silk blonde, and it’s fluffy and soft and my mom hates it. She wants to cut it short, but I won’t let her. I’m sort of tall and skinny – not weak, but not muscular either. And I have lip piercings – snake bites, just because they look fun. But if you really wanted to get to know me, you’d focus on my personality before you turned your attention anywhere else.
I’m wild. I have ADHD, so I can’t really control myself sometimes, but I know that’s no excuse for how I act. I crack my knuckles like nobody’s business and have an unlimited supply of ever-lasting energy. The only time I crash is when I take my medication. Then I’m like a zombie – especially if I’m given a high enough dosage – and I’m really boring and uninteresting. That’s why I hardly ever take it unless I need to. I just cheek my pills instead. It could get me in trouble, but… oh well?
If you want to find me, you should look for the guy in colorful spandex with knee-high boots on. Sixty percent of the time this is my wardrobe. I have an obsession with superheroes, see. I dress like them, because it’s fun. Sometimes I make up my own, but most of the time I just steal them from Marvel. My favorite is Moon Knight. I have his costume, and wear it more than the others. I get a lot of weird looks for it, but I don’t mind.
My sister tells me that when I was a baby, our mom dropped me on my head and that’s why I’m so messed up. I never believed her until I asked mom about it and she pulled back my long, messy mop and showed me the scar. It was light, but still visible enough to notice – yet, somehow, I never had. So I really was dropped on my head as a baby, but momma swears that’s not why I’m so “weird.” It’s just part of who I am, she says. It doesn’t make me a freak or an outcast. And you know what, I believe her. I have never, ever hated myself for my problems, especially the ones I can’t fix.