My name is Paula, and I live with my aunt and my uncle. They own a funeral home, and live at work. Literally. Once you live with it, death becomes normal. My friends, however, are amazed, or distraught to visit me from time to time. I have seven furry animals (one cat/six dogs) and a two-legged winged creature in the back yard (a hen that, by herself, has laid almost half a dozen eggs in three days. Oh yeah, we're that good.) My family is a special one, at that. I'm normal-ish, other than the fact that I have this idea that I am a vampire. I'm not, in any way, connected to Christianity like the rest of my family. Not saying Christians are bad people, because my aunt is the sweetest person that I know. Let alone the fact that I am have more of a darker taste in clothing and cosmetics than those in my family. I am accepted for who I am by my family. Hell, one of my cousins is gay, while his sister currently has purple hair as well as his dog. I'll update it when she changes her hair again, it tends to morph from time to time.
My name was cool when I was born. Paula Elizibeth. After twenty-four days, my mother noticed that my middle name was spelled "incorrectly" and it's been legally spelled "Elizabeth" ever since. Well, that's going to change when I get the money. I liked the old spelling, in fact I go by a shortened version of it (Lizzi) (No, I didn't forget the 'e', nor did I hit the wrong key. I spell my name how I like.) My mother hates it, but oh well. She's not too fond of my hair either, but that's still who I am. I like my face, and every other part of my body but my stomach and the extra fat rolling around. I quite enjoy my life, and grasp things as I go. I like to think on my feet, and I like to take care of myself. I guess this is why living with my aunt is a little different. Living with mom was like I was living with a roommate that pretty much just paid for everything because you weren't allowed to have a job for yourself. We kept to ourselves, and only spoke when we were leaving the house together, or when either of us were leaving on our own. You didn't ask for anything unless there was a friend over, and even then you didn't get too greedy. You did your own laundry, or it didn't get done. I've raised myself since I was young, and taking care of my grandfather for five years. My mother's not all that bad, though. She can be pretty cool, and I like our relationship right now. We don't fight, nor do we fuss. We laugh and have a good time, like it should be. Living with my aunt, I just have to mention it and they consider buying it for me. If it's something small (which it normally is) I normally get it. I get money from time to time for vacuuming the chapels, and keeping everything clean and doing my stuff like I should. I'm trying to get a job across the street at the grocery, so that I don't have to have their money too. It feels like I'm taking advantage of them when they pay me for doing a chore like that.
Other than that, I'm pretty much just like everyone else on this site, though I'm sure I'm rather young compared to the experiences of those around me. I don't act like the average sixteen-year-old, and have a rather level head on my shoulders (whether I act it or not.) I enjoy life in the way I like it. I know that I'm as at risk of dying tomorrow as anyone else. I also know that I'll die happy, even if that doesn't mean I took every risk imaginable to destroy the lungs I worked so hard to perfect, or eating every greasy piece of meat humanly possible. You don't have to be unhealthy to be happy.
