ππ. ππ/π πππ πππππππ. πππππ π ππππ.
"ππ πππ, ππ πππ whose performance am I watching? How many people am I? Who am I? What is this space between myself and myself?"
βπ ππππππ ππππ ππ ππππππππππ. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job at pretending, I even fooled myself.β
sea salt clinging to clothes and skin. bare shoulders kissed by the sun. smiles for the camera. smiles stretched too tight, too thin, and too empty to be bought. glucose tablets by the bed, a purse without lipstick but full of snacks. good posture. bad habits. airport outfits. insulin pumps. sheer curtains billowing in on the breeze. turkish coffee. lebanese food. wheezing laughter. pink cheeks. "i have a dress for that"... but please don't make me wear it. soft curls. unhinged bedhead. eye rolls. finger guns. ink stained fingers and calligraphy pens. premiere parties. red carpets. sneaking off in an ex's oversized hoodie and sunglasses to grab milk from the gas station at 7am. early mornings. late nights. whispered confessions in the dark. handwritten letters never sent. standing in the kitchen on a Wednesday morning making breakfast and remembering why it wouldn't be better to just burn the house down.
nickname(s):Β hadi (HAH-dee) to certain people, but in general none
age & birthday:Β thirty-threeΒ ; coming soon
star sign:Β cancer sun, tbd moon, leo rising
gender & pronouns:Β cis woman ; she/her
sexuality:Β bisexual
birthplace:Β mardin, tΓΌrkiye
hometown: mardin, tΓΌrkiye / briar ridge
current residence:Β beach front
time in residence:Β from the age of 8 onwards her time has been divided between school years in mardin and summers in briar ridge
languages spoken: turkish, arabic, english, french
occupation:Β tv/film actress - predominantly in turkish media
characteristics:Β coming soon
ππ‘π π¦π’π«π«π¨π«.
face claim:Β pinar deniz
ethnicity: arab / lebanese ancestry
hair color:Β dark brown
eye color:Β green
height:Β 5β6β
build:Β slender
signature scent:Β guerlain mitsouko base - ripe peach, jasmine, may rose, spice
tattoos:Β all of hadia's tattoos are very minimal and easily covered up if necessary. she has the turkish crescent moon and star tattooed behind the outer bone of her left ankle, the phrase "your faith has to be greater than your fear" in arabic script - written by her own hand - alongside her outer right wrist, and a tiny butterfly wing hidden behind her left ear.
piercings:Β multiple earlobe piercings.
scars:Β nothing prominent, but she does have a tiny scar on the cusp of her left cheek from a fall as a toddler.
medical conditions: type 1 diabetes, onset at the age of 14
characteristics:Β intuitive, loyal, nurturing, family/home oriented, protective, creative, emotionally aware, bold on the surface, extroverted on the surface, engaging, warm, tenacious ; possessive and easily jealous, secretive/prone to withholding, moody, struggles with emotional control, reticent with sharing emotions
likes and motivations:Β fresh cut flowers, art in every form, traveling without itineraries, the comfort of being at home, fuzzy socks, vinyl records, handwritten letters, yogurt bowls, fresh cups of coffee, arabic calligraphy, folk dancing, blue jolly ranchers, no makeup days, good health days, making friends with stray cats even though she's mildly allergic, ice cold water or no water at all, lazy mornings spent in bed - wrapped up in sun warmed sheets, thrifting, silk slip dresses and baggy sweatpants, expensive champagne and shitty boxed wine, the office, chin grabs and nose kisses, a weekend with no plans, hiking, vanilla chapstick, lit candles in every room // success but on her own terms, proving not some fragile little china doll who needs constant micromanaging and supervision, feeling happy
dislikes and fears:Β whenever someone asks "should you be eating that??", being told "you seem cranky, is your blood sugar okay?" as if a girl just can't be going through it some days, artificial grape flavoring, mushrooms, caviar, people who feel as if they're entitled to her personal life just because she has a public facing career, rumors, wet napkins, gushers fruit snacks, removing/reattaching her insulin pump because ouch, a full glam face, special treatment, the spotlight, feelings as if her body and her time belong to everyone but herself // that she's spent her life building up a career that she hasn't really loved in a long time, that she'll never find someone who genuinely wants her vs the clout of her career, end up alone for that same reason, starting over
Born and mostly overseas in Mardin, it's no secret that Hadia's life has been greatly influenced by her rather conservative parents. Family, community, tradition, honor and respectβThese values have been instilled in her from the start. While she's always aligned with by nature, the pressure to make her parents proud has never been too far in the distance.
None could be more true when, around the time she was eight, Leyla and Asaf ended up putting a full stop to their marriage. Divorce wasn't common in their religion or their culture; it goes without saying that development was something neither of them, let alone young Hadi, knew how to navigate well. When her mother decided to stay in Mardin, and her father relocated to the states, she found herself not only split between parents but split between homes. Split between having to appease each side and weather the bitter sentiments between them.
If she had to circle back and inspect the timeline of her life, she'd say that moment was when her people pleasing tendencies really reared their head.
Life had been good before the divorce. Happy. Warm. Nobody could blame her for wanting at least a semblance of that back. Hadia pushed herself and pushed herself, bending over backwards to be what everyone needed, but getting diagnosed with type 1 diabetes as a teen put a bit of a spanner in the works. Instead of being focused on keeping relationships with both parents above water, suddenly those parents were hyper focused on her. What she'd been eating, how she felt, how she spent her time, how far she was allowed to go, how often she needed to check in by phone.
Being treated as if she was some new, frightfully fragile person rather than the one she'd always been was difficult for Hadi. That in mind, it wasn't too hard to understand why she grew somewhat obsessed with the idea of acting. The idea of getting out and getting away from the pressure of her parents and the ability to shed her real life for one fabricated for a script
Acting wasn't without it's own challenges but, for the most part, it was fine. She thrived in front of a camera. Thrived in the opportunity to still deliver exactly what was expected without having to take it so personally.
Sure, some of her co-stars and crew came to conclusions, unaware of why she needed frequent breaks some days, or a free pass to arrive late on others. Why she had a say in what was and wasn't provided at the craft table. Why, after a few unexplained "scares" she never came to set without a full entourage. Eventually they realized it was her health, not an air of importance, but by then the rumors had already whispered their way off set and into the world. The comments during post-wrap interviews were already canon. No amount of backtracking or admissions could fully change the public's belief that Hadia was self-absorbed and difficult to work with.
Where she'd once found a safe space, she suddenly felt on trial. As if she had to consistently defend who she was as a person to what might as well be a brick wall. And thatβThat's when she'd say life took another downward turn.
For all the digs and backlash she received, most were still all too happy to cash in on the perks of being part of Hadia's world. Relationships she thought were genuine were actually built on a foundation of free swag bags, free trips, and the chance to see their own face, own name, splashed across the internet. All because they were 'friends'. She'd reached a breaking point. For month's Hddia considered throwing away everything she'd worked for and disappearing off the map. To an extent, she did.
For three years Hadia made herself scarce, selecting only the projects that truly called to her and leaving the rest. She stopped going out. Started staying in. Fell in love, fell apart, disappeared off the grid again. Since then she's only performed one role, accepted one job, and even that was a little too much for her. The speculation about her life, where she'd been, if she still 'had it' was too much to take without shattering. She's been back in Briar Ridge for the last few months while she avoids all of it, uncertain of if there's still something left to fight for or if she'd ready to throw in the towel.
The fact that she wanted to even give it a try was curious but, to her impulse's credit, it started off fine. Good, even. Despite a cramp in her thigh somewhere within the first mile, and a stitch in her chest upon the second, she almost enjoyed it. The combination of footfalls meeting pavement and heavy bass in her ears was unexpectedly effective in drowning out the rest.
As in: her cross-continental move. That morning's minor breakdown. Her career, if she still had one. The leaky faucet in her rental that loved to drip, drip, drip all hours of the night until she was ready to buy a sledgehammer and let it swing just to get some rest. Really, the options of what plagued her lately were endless, but working it out on the streets helped.
Until it didn't.
It was as if the passing SUV meant to hit that puddle. As if they saw her jogging along the sidewalk thought, 'You know what would make this sight even better? Water'. Lots and lots of dirty, gritty, ditch water. Then they floored it.
She had it in her eyes. Soaked through her clothes. Sluicing down every exposed inch of skin possible until it looked like she'd been entered in the west t-shirt contest from hell that she neither asked for nor needed.
And the sour cherry on top of her bad luck cake? Cem.
Because of course when she swiped the crud from her eyes and looked up, there he was. Because, of course, seeing her ex for the first time in years while getting stood up on a blind date hadn't been mortifying enough.
The universe just kept giving.
Hadi sucked in a barely-hanging-by-a-thread breath. Squeezed her eyes shut against the image of him standing there, bearing witness. She rolled gritty lips over her teeth until the tight stretch formed an ache, tipped her head north to the sky, andβFuck. No getting around this one, was there?
"You know," she inevitably sighed, still not looking, "I'd really appreciate us not mentioning how embarrassing this is for me right now." And maybe a towel.
setting β beach front neighborhood, morning - afternoon
status β open, capped at 0/3
"βΈ» that's not normal, right?" Normal as in: a common occurrence. A weekly show. A morning routine she'd need to come to terms with now that she moved back to town because 'that's just how things roll'.
Surely not. Right?
The scene playing out across the street was captivating in the same way you couldn't help but gawk at a wreck on the side of the road. Awful, and yet you couldn't stop. Except in this case, Hadia didn't even know what she was looking at.
NoβShe knew, she just wasn't sure why.
"Seriously," she mumbled around another bite cleaved from the middle of her apple. "Is heβIs he even wearing pants?"
Head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed, she blinked away the lingering fog of sleep andβNope. Mr. DiCenzo, her new neighbor pushing the young age of 80, was definitely outside watering his bushes... in nothing but an obscenely bright, Hawaiian print shirt and his tighty whities to greet the sun.
Still staring, still snacking, still unable to tear away her gaze, Hadi deadpanned, "This wasn't included in my rental description."
