Ballzay


(A.k.a. Ballz, Tosh, Báülzé, Baülz, etc.)

The one and only. A lover of all things harsh, he dwells upon
severity... and everything about him shows it: His beloved music, his
disposition, his attitude, ideas, and actions. He is pure massochism,
the unrelenting opposite, the adverse paradox...
The antiproduct of all suggestion.

Full sanity is somewhat fleeting to him, his mind is a like a noxious poison (which he seeks to spread wherever possible).
Often ranting loudly, he doesn't bother with making suggestions. Instead, he pushes his ideas and presence forcefully.
He, being continually affected by a full spectrum of unbridled feelings, never feels removed.
Ironically, in his eyes, he is always a perfect fit to everything
around him; a counterbalance to the unrelenting catastrophies of thought in his head.
He greedily consumes all categories of music, high speed, and
imagination.

His greatest limitation and only fear is his own imbalance.
Tosh is the product of a schizophrenia-like state, and is therefore
always pressed to the edge of control. [If one's control of self and
mind are allowed to slip away, the individual essentially disappears].
On countless occasions Ballz has found himself starting over--sent to
he bottom and nearly smashed from existence by a debilitating event of
psychosis. Born of imbalance, he becomes ever more defined by this brutal
self-history of mental torment and periodic isolation beause of his uncanny ability to learn:
With every such instance of loss and derangement, he re-arranges
himself with a new immunity to slippage, learnt from the previous
breakdown.
In his beginnings, Tosh came fourth from an inhospitable and rapidly growing ocean of mental static, noise, and dissonence. With many years and his chaotic system of self-establishment, his silhouette was struck more and more clearly from the fog, while consuming and restricting it's growth.
It's hard to say now whether his madness smothers or cultivates it, but he harbours a spiraling brilliance.

Though his very essence would suggest otherwise, he aspires to many long outdated and forgotten codes of honour.

Unlike most, he is readily capable of living as well as dying.
To him, adverse things such as danger, pain, and death are the most
beautiful and necessary components of the great chaos which reflects his own. They bring him great comfort.

Life is obvious to him. He rarely seeks to improve himself, already feeling more or less at home with his own slanted sense of happiness.

He strives to make sure that everything about life caters to his caustic sense of truth and enjoyment. He will stop at nothing to make his very consciousness a continual rush...
A pursuit which is happily met by everything around him:
For one that seeks it, the world is rich with offers of fascinating creations, unholstered chaos, endless love, pain, horror, and sorrow.