KAPLAN, Claudia J.

[Deleted]

CLAUDIA JANE KAPLAN

NICKNAMES: Claud, C
AGE & BIRTHDAY: 20 (12/14)
HEIGHT: 5'4
HOMETOWN: Detroit, Michigan 
RESIDENCE: Brooklyn, NY
PROFESSION: Columbia Student
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single.

FATHER: Chrstoph Kaplan, Marxist psychomaniac
MOTHER: Isla Kaplan, deceased
SIBLINGS: Jonny Kaplan, 22
EXTENDED: N/A
OTHER: Polo,  Birman Cat, 2 years

MY LIFE IS A TRAGEDY.

Like a reality TV series that's scripted...but we don't have one. Really. I almost wish we did so it could explain this string of disappointments and the lack of a family I discovered I had. Where do I even begin?

Born to a Marxist obsessor capable of caring about words and ideals more than his children, a mother who I rarely saw smile, a brother who could care less what happened to him or his skin. Sure I loved him, we raised each other in the absence of parental holds, but it was inevitable that he let me down too. I think that's my purpose of existence, if my father had ever wanted to explore that. I was born for the purpose to be let down. There's no other explanation for me, but then again I don't get into all that idealist bullshit. I stay as far away from it as possible. Nothing against my father, as I find him to be a brilliant man, but after everything it will never be for me. I suppose I'll never have the voice to say this all out loud either, so I just write. My feelings, my emotions, some resentment and general bullshit Jonny has pulled....if anyone found my journal they'd commit me without a second thought. If it was voiced out loud it would be even sooner.

I think this is a rational place to start in my life. Not that my childhood doesn't matter, but I think this was when my life truly began. Seventeen, finding my mother's red blood water seeping through a bath mat, her dead body so serene even in the macabre vision of her wrists. I don't remember much but the blood, her peaceful face. If I was being honest it was the happiest I'd seen her in a while. Maybe knowing her fate helped the most. I just never thought she had that confidence to do it, to escape this life. But there she was, my biggest discovery, and that's where my life really begins. Or ends. Up to interpretation. The worst part was how unconcerned my dad really was, leaving a voicemail of all things for my brother to tell him. I thought it was a sick joke but there he was, pouring over his papers, his theories, not hours after she was taken away. That night I burned one of his books in the fire, and closed the moment off for the rest of my life.

Then comes Atlas.

We were friends, long ago. Sometimes I still consider her as such, but then I think of her blatant lack of rules or listening skills and she infuriates me all over again. She was the first girl I ever met at Columbia, having worked like hell to get out of my life in Detroit and into my bare bones life in Brooklyn. It was a similar grungy life, but the independence I craved. Just not the inflated prices. I swear I'm always broke, but it's what I do to stay away. I got financial aid, scholarships, a part time job waiting tables at this little cafe close to my building...but she was opposite. Too much money, not enough care or appreciation, this lack of effort but act of genius...there's never a way to pin Atlas down. She has no description, she just kind of exists and you're drawn to her. Anyway, we got along, which was almost as surprising as the fact that it wasn't. Our whole group bonded, going out together and cramming for gen ed tests most of us aced, crying away our tears with vodka poured down our throats. She kind of opened up my life, made me a bit more whole, got me to experience and feel things again. I really liked her...until Johnny came to visit.

I should have known it would happen.

When you tell Atlas no, it's like her open invitation. I told her to not hook up with my brother, to stay away because he just wouldn't get her. But of fucking course, he did. They kept it from me until Atlas couldn't hide anymore, and when they continued even against my wishes I was done. We stopped talking, avoided the same places, I'd stare daggers at her from behind when she was chatting with him on the phone coming down the street. It really was the fact that she didn't care, could lose a friend and gain a lover and that'd be perfectly ok with her. Like those relationships existed on the same plane.

We haven't really spoke since. I try not to mind.

Then the biggest disappointment of all.

I can't say that though, not really. He did really help me take care of myself when I was younger, try to see some brighter side to the world than what we lived in. My parents might have been absent, but Jonny was very much here. Sure he did things when I was young to really piss me off, but at the end of the day I could be his little sister and come to him when I was scared of thunderstorms, or monster under my bed, or anything else concerning typical childhood concerns. He was my knight in metallic armor, sure of himself in so many ways I still don't think I am. Probably because he was already gone when we lost her. Probably because he knew she was going to go.

Growing up I kind of idolized him. He was the cool, hip, older brother. Made me work hard for school, knew I had a better life ahead of me than what we had in Detroit. So I did what I was told and got excited to show him the life I'd built working hard at Columbia and in New York.

And instead, he falls in "love" with my roommate.

Of all people he'd go for, I never though Atlas. And I never thought she'd go for him. I thought he'd make fun of her name, the status she had, make some comment about how superficial and vapid she was. But no, a few months later I hear they're dating. Together. Had been for a while now. It made me sick that he kept that from me. Even more so that he ended up choosing her over me, letting her stay with him when I couldn't stand to be around her. I almost vomited when I called his apartment and she picked up his phone so carelessly. It lasted this way until their relationship crumbled like I knew it would. They just were way too strange, so opposite for one another, that it was toxic. I spared them the 'I told you so', because I'm better than that. And I just don't care, especially because they still talk and I swear he still talks about how he's in love with you and I just want to die every time.

I tried to lash out, hooking up with a string of guys in pain and punishment for his actions, but the edge wore off. I don't like feeling used, naturally ebbing towards things more caring, more valuable. The last boy I dated was a boy named Peter for three months, and as much as I enjoyed the relationship I know he enjoyed writing for The Columbia Paper a lot more than watching movies with me. Too much like my father, so I ended it.

For now, I still keep myself busy. I have a fun group of eclectic friends, I have family (somewhat), I keep myself busy. It's what I need and this is the place to do it, so here I remain. Away from the ghosts of the past I try to forget time to time.

ALIAS: jill
PLAY-BY: tj wallace
CITY: NY
LISTENING TO: TKO, JT