So here's what you need to know before you judge the exact placement that my fist is in, in accordance with Blake Matthews' face. My name's Ryan. I'm a freshman in college, studying psychology and doing family profile studies. Really, I don't want to be a psychologist. I hear enough rants about problems of rich, sad, people from volunteering at the senior centre. I'd gone to the Bridgeport Hospital every day after school when I was in high school, and sat there, listening to old stories and playing chess. Only one thing kept me there after I'd graduated: Daisy Swizzle.
Daisy was a definite party girl. She would roll with the popular crew; Lola Belle, Katrina Pala, Katelyn Missoni, and Matilda Smart, Jack Porter, Ti Bellino, Mick Situp and Tom Wordy. They had parties all the time, and I would be invited sometimes. I remember the first day I saw Daisy at the senior centre. I'd taken a double-take to make sure it was her. Sure enough, the piercing green eyes, light cappuccino colored skin and light brown hair marked the one and only Swizzle. She blunt bangs that she'd put into this intricate style, and had waved at me when she first got in.
Now, I'd like to think that 4 years ago, I was pretty tall for my age, but that's only because the high school freshman of today were not blessed with height. Even so, my height is really the only thing that makes me stand out. I have grey eyes, a mess of curly hair that is usually stuck underneath a beanie and sun-kissed skin from playing chess under the sun with Bob the former builder. The first day that she came, I went over to help her set up for the shuffleboard tournament they'd be having. I still remember that day, that very first turning point.