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“YOU NEVER NEED TO APOLOGIZE FOR HOW YOU CHOSE TO SURVIVE.”

  • N A M E  → August Beaulieu
  • S T A T U S  → ★★
  • A G E  → 30
  • PRONOUNS  → he / him
  • N E I G H B O R H O O D  → Williamsburg
  • O C C U P A T I O N  → Aspiring Musician & Songwriter / Drug Dealer

TRIGGERS: drug use, death, sexual abuse 

P A S T  

There was never a dream that included two point five children, a white fence, or any of the american dream that everyone had been selling back then. Instead, his parents were forced together out of necessity, and because of this fate, it set the tone for the entire family. Shortly after the birth of his brother, his father became a full blown alcoholic. Some of them were functional, he knew this because he’d seen them, but not his father. He was gone, leaving his mother to do what she needed to, what she thought she had to do to survive.

He remembers the first day someone told him his mother was a whore, a passing child in the hallway that was trying to find something a little more damaging to hurl at him than the run-of-the-mill insults, the overly predictable accusation he was the strange kid - the odd man out. Perhaps it was a date he should have kept inked in his skin with so many others, but the memory still has teeth, and they’d love nothing more than to tear him apart.

It was years after that, when she started to age out, that he learned what exactly she had been doing. The first time she’d sent him in her place, it was the first time he’d touched, the first time he’d been touched. Eventually, it was all buried under the guise of memories he’d lost due to his upbringing. He lasted a few months before he’d bought himself out, and left them all behind, including his siblings.

He was on the street, but still attending the district schools, the ones that allowed him access to his first drug deal. As it turns out, he liked selling product far more than he’d ever liked selling himself. Some days, he didn’t know if he had anything else left to offer, which was all the more reason to appreciate the out created by the habit.

Irony in perfect place, it was the drugs that introduced him to the music. He’d always wanted to learn to play the bass, and it was easy enough to shuffle funds toward that when they were abundant - and so many doors opened for the man with the best connect. He’d fallen in love with a new release, fostered a new addiction, and thankfully, he still believed it was one that wouldn’t kill him. Granted, that was still left to be seen.

P R E S E N T  →

People have a strange debate when it comes to the heart of inspiration, they can never decide if winning it over is skill or sorrow. If you asked August, it was the tragedy that had dug itself into his veins that allowed him to make the music that he did. He didn’t lie about his damage, and he carried his baggage like a badge of honor. Perhaps it was that honesty wrapped in a dangerous combination of wit and sarcasm, that held him back.

He’s grown over the years, his nightmares are even a little bit further apart - maybe, just maybe he’s processing, maybe he’s healing. The closer he seems to get to his goal, the goal that would give him the fame, the love to make the music he needed to, the better he would be. Healing was further away from the drugs that were kept in his back pocket like a band aid, or perhaps an easy alternative, but he still hadn’t learned to put them down.

Instead, it was a constant struggle, but the more phone calls he gets, the better his connections are, but deep down, hidden under all those commitment issues and reckless decisions? It’s the same boy he was years ago, before the family fell apart, before his choice was his alone, and god damn, does he miss what it feels like being loved - really loved.

Parts of him are convinced that his happy ending can’t happen while he’s still stuck in between fame and failure, but what if is a motherfucker on a lonely night, so only time will really tell.

P E R S O N A L I T Y  

  • + adaptable, creative, protective, perceptive
  • - sarcastic, cynical, reckless, afraid

AUGUST BEAULIEU ( Robert Sheehan ) is written by LACE ( she / her → EST )

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Hey friends!

If y’all want to, you can join my group chat! It’s for people who love Robert Sheehan!

I think you can just search “Robert Sheehan!!” And then request to join!

I’m going to be accepting people until it’s full!

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