Sarah Strauss D12 {FIN}

pg.1

I have enclosed a photo identification in case you can't find the house to where this goes solely on the information of my name. And if you are still that much of an imbecile after seeing a picture of me, I've taken the first page of my diary to describe myself to a perfect tee. I am exactly one inch taller than my brother Erik, something I'm pretty sure annoys him, because he refers to me as his little sister constantly. I mean I'm only two years younger than him. He could really stand to get off of his high horse once in a while. Jerk. Anyway, like I said, I'm 5'11. I'm built really, really lean and spindly. I feel like a awkward scarecrow sometimes, but hey, this is district twelve;;I should be thankful my parents make more money than most. I like wearing dark clothes because they don't stain as easily. Plus, it makes me feel less bony. So don't say anything about my elbows or knees or I'll..I'll cut you. Yep. I'll do that. I mean it! Well, maybe I'm just saying that to be cool. Whatever.

I keep my hair out most often, letting if fall to under my chest, but happen to like this picture of me with my hair up, so deal with it. The shade of it is a medium colorization of brown that is just a tad lighter then my eyebrows. Erik makes fun of my ears sometimes, to which I smack him across the back of his head. Speaking of which, my own is rather round, complete with a round chin. My eyes are hazel close to honey, or so I'd like to think. I have a small nose and small round lips, which I usually leave lipstick off of. Though I am partial to eye shadow and blush. I've been told I have a long neck, which is only made to stand out more by my complete lack of shoulders. Its hard to find skirts that I like, because my legs make up a good deal of my height, so I usually go for wearing shorts instead and not leaving the house. Which makes me very pale. I'm a little self-conscious about burning up in the sun, but since I don't go out much I can't get a tan.

Its a vicious cycle.

pg.2

I realize that there are a lot of brunettes around the district so if that isn't enough for you I guess I'll have to explain what kind of girl I am, so you can return this to the person with the right personality. Ask me about the games and I'll tell you I don't understand my brothers obsession with it. What's cool about getting your guts spilled out in front of millions of people? I find the whole thing to be unnecessarily bloody. Have I mentioned that blood makes me sick? Can't abide seeing the stuff. Makes me even more pale than I already am. My brother seems to think that getting reaped is the best way to get famous. I prefer to stay out of the public eye. Its hard enough being known as "That weird guys sister." Speaking of which, I can't abide most other people. They have a tendency to suck profusely. Always with the questions and the looks and the why don't you get out more and I can't bring myself to just say that I have more fun sitting around the house.

I don't know about boys. Is it so hard for them to let me know if they like me? Just kidding. I doubt any of them even know I exist. As I said before, Erik is the one that goes looking for friends, even if most consider him to be as weird as it gets. The first thing most of my peers do when they look at me is to look somewhere else. Least, that is the way it feels. I don't go out of my way to talk to people, because no one goes out of their way to talk to me, and at this rate, I've gotten quite used to being a loner. It can be fun sometimes. I've heard tell that Erik wanders our districts streets at night. That's just downright dangerous, but I like to wander too. In the daylight. Through crowds. Where I can't be kidnapped.

My relationship with my parents is okay; they seem pretty concerned with Erik's choice of hobby, which is to watch the games on repeat. They get so caught up in telling him what not to do that often times, they use me as an example for what he should be doing. Other than that, I'm usually left to my own devices. For fun, I like to write in this diary about everything that happened to me during the day. Which usually isn't all the much, but I like to people watch and make up stories about their lives. Don't judge me. You're the one reading someone else's diary. That enough for you? Can you find me now? One thing I've learned about people is that they are generally less intelligent than you give them credit for, so... Go on to page three if you must. Really though. How many brown-haired Susan Strauss's are there in the district?

pg.3

If that still isn't enough information with which to get this diary back to me, the following should make everything undeniably clear. I am now going to tell you all about how my life was growing up. There's five of us. My father, mother, brother and a pet dog. Aristotle is my best friend by the way. Animals understand people in way that other people often fail to do. Anyway, I was born when Erik was two years old, and ever since then it seems like we've been at odds. The pair of us are just so different. I think the problems started when I was around five and would cry every time the games started. Most younger kids do. Not Erik. He thought that tributes were just so cool; in fact, he tried to playfight with me and it got him in big trouble. I'm talking more serious than no desserts for a week trouble. Needless to say, from that point on he didn't talk about the games with me.

When I was twelve, I attended my first reaping. I didn't like it. Well, I liked that my parents actually looked for good clothes for me to wear, but I didn't like that I looked like a duck or something because of my height. I was already 5'3 by that time. They gave me some odd looks for that. The girl and boy they carted away looked terrified. Erik looked like he was depressed. I've come to know that he does it a lot. Moping about being a art of the background. Please. He has no idea what it means to be alone. Though I think he does know what it means to be an outcast. Some things just run in the family. In any case, when I got home that day I locked myself in my room, because on the way back, he tried to tell me that he was never going to get anywhere with his life, and I was like, no duh you're not going to, all you do is whine.

So now I've been in highschool for a few years. Or at least as close as our district can get to having an institute of higher learning. I still prefer my house to anywhere else, but it seems like that is a hard concept for people to grasp. Yet another reason that I prefer perceived solitude to "actual" human interaction. I mean, I know that i'm not a waste of air, so tats one person I'd like to spend time with. So there's yet another clue for you to take care of. The right owner of this book will be sitting up in her room, fretting about having lost the very pages you are holding, but not doing anything else about it. So please, please return this, or like I said in the beginning I will cut you. Unless you're a peacekeeper in which, I am not going to inflict any kind of bodily harm on you. Actually, I wasn't going to hurt anyone I just want my book back.

You better not read anything past this page.

One more thing; I have a secret and the secret is that odair