Catalina Vespoli // D4 // [FIN]

Catalina Vespoli // D4 // [FIN] Sept 1, 2013 12:29:52 GMT -5

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Post by arx on Sept 1, 2013 12:29:52 GMT -5

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And you said,
it was like fire around the brim
Burning solid, burning thin the burning rim
Like stars burning holes
right through the dark

I am not a mother. Though the title was forced upon me. But I refuse to go by that title despite the what the situation may call for. I'll be the big sister. I'll watch out for them when they need watching, feed them when they need feeding, clean up after them when our "house" needs cleaning, and I swear if anyone says a word against a single one of them I will personally see to it that their life becomes a living hell. But I will not be a mother. I haven't lived my life yet - I have things to do, places to go, people to meet, alcohol to drink, weed to smoke, boys to flirt with, parties to attend. I'm not letting my parents' deaths get in the way of my life.

But please don't tell anyone that the thought of them actually makes me hurt a lot. I may bitch about them and how they left me in charge of a family that is just too big for any family in Panem, and I may feel like they abandoned me - burdened me - with this huge responsibility to make sure no one dies, but I loved them. They were my parents, I was their first daughter. Sure the triplets took up most of their time and attention when I was growing up, and maybe at the time I had been jealous that I wasn't the number one in their eyes all the time, but now I see that it was for the better. I've learned how to take care of myself. I don't need anyone but me, me, and more me. You think I give a damn about you? Well then my acting skills and ability to twist the truth really do work like a charm. Unless your name is Vespoli. That's when I pretend not to care or give two shits when I really do.

My family is everything to me. If I lost anyone else, I'm not sure I could function as I do now. No more confidence and boldness, just a crying mess on the ground. And let me tell you, I hate, hate, hate weakness. Anyone who has it deserves to be squashed like an insect one way or another. What time is there for weeping and yearning in this world? The correct answer: None. Having endless fun to make all the pain and sorrow and stupid feelings that you keep locked up inside go away, however, is highly acceptable. ~~Not that I do that or anything ...~~ But what other choice do I have? You care about anyone or anything in this world too openly and someone will be sure to take it away from you. One little ray of weakness and you can bet someone will be there to take advantage of it. That's why I keep everything locked away and stand like stone against the elements. I'm not going to lose. I have too much - so, so much - to lose, and I just can't risk someone swooping in and taking any of it from me.

Strength. Now that is me and I am not going to show you anything but that. Oh, and of course, a good time. Not only do I have the perfect sparkling green eyes, luscious dark locks, and the sexiest, most flawless body probably ever, I have drugs to sell to you. I guess looking the way I do helps a bit with the whole drug business, drawing in the whole array of the district. From disgusting street scum to pampered rich assholes, I can reel them all in one way or another. Not that I care to do anything more with them than sell drugs. Most of them like the idea that they think they can "reel me in" with their own ... charm though, despite the fact that the only thing they are going to get from me is going to be some quality cannabis, and maybe, if they are lucky, a kiss at the end of the night. I'm up for a good time, a club, a fun little cannabis party on the beach, but relations that go beyond business partner or a simple flirtation are not in my interest. Sorry, you'll have to just settle for chasing me.

And I guess I really always have been a tease like that. I suppose it's part of growing up in the family that I have. My parents had too many kids, taught us way too much about the wrong things, and had a lot more money than they let on. If there weren't so many mouths to feed, we might be one of the richest families in the district. But, thanks to happy, happy, sensual mommy and daddy, we have a lot of expenses to deal with on a daily basis. Or, I have a lot of expenses to deal with and mouths to feed and children that I need to make sure I don't fuck up as bad as me on a daily basis. And that is true, I am pretty fucked up. But you can't really blame me can you? I grew up in a beached ship, no electricity, no running water, drugs and alcohol introduced to me right from the moment I entered this world, Reapings to attend, and to add to the whole mess, dead parents. I grew up a sensitive girl and was broken by the nature of the world I live in. Not that I mind. Better that I was broken sooner rather than later I guess.

“Do what you love and don’t let anyone or anything stop you.” That's what my parents always made sure to tell me. It was the moral of all their bedtime stories. It was what they lived by. Kind of ironic that doing what they loved killed them, but oh well. I still live by those words, just as they had. I love drugs. I love having fun. I love parties. I love flirting. I love drinking. I love my family. I love parties. I love adventure. I love school, I've been getting good grades since I was 5 years old. ~~But don't tell anyone. That's weird.~~ I love teasing people. I love being a Vespoli. I love living. And no one is ever going to tell me how to live my life. Unless of course you they want a broken nose. Then by all means, tell me I'm stupid, ugly, insignificant, and too damn arrogant. I'd be happy to rearrange your face for you. It's too bad for me that most people know not to cross me like that ...

Most. Key word. But others cross me differently. There is this one boy in particular really. And I guess I can't complain too much, considering he keeps buying fish and pot from us, but something tells me all this leading on and teasing isn't going to combat his affections all that well. He's a bit like a lost kitten; you feed it once and it come back time and time again in search of food. The other half of that simile tells you I think he is adorable. Elite Hops. He started off as just someone who wanted to buy from me. Actually, from us. For awhile he just bought fish from us. ~~Despite the fact that his family owns fishing boats.~~ (Yes, I did a background check on him. Had to make sure he wasn't going to hurt my family or something.) But after a while he started buying drugs. And then he was a regular buyer and started hanging around and helping out in our little "garden" longer than any of the other buyers did. Not that I'm complaining or anything. He's ... different, you could say, than most boys that enjoy my "company" ~~not my face or body or anything ...~~ And it's for just that reason - he seems to thoroughly enjoy my company. Like I said, it's adorable. So I try not to tease him too much, at least not like I do with the other boys.

I'm not exactly as cruel as I let on. I mean, when I was little I would save every little kitten I found roaming the streets and feed them the left over fish guts because I felt so bad for them, mewling without a mom to look after them. And, (when no one is looking of course), I like to walk along the shore and collect all the little trinkets and shells that I find in the sand. I keep a collection in a little bag under my hammock. But it's not for anyone but me to see, so don't ask. But it's another one of the things I love, sifting through the little treasures late at night, making a story for each little trinket or sea shell. And that's when I can be me without having to worry about anyone watching. Sometimes I even sit out on the beach and cry at the memory of my parents. I like to watch the moon in the sky and look up at the constellations and draw pictures in the sand like I used to when I was just a little girl. But that's only lat eat night when there is no one around to see the weak, petty, fragile things that I do.

I'm like a Career in that sense, wanting no one to know me as someone with feelings. Because I don't. I don't have them - at least not for you to see. So don't come looking. You won't find anything but a brick wall painted with graffiti. Colorful and bright, fun and eccentric, but strong and unbreakable. Impossible to crumble, impossible to climb over. Hiding what counts and matters most on the other side for all eternity, never letting the biggest, best, and brightest parts of myself shine through even the smallest of cracks.

Flicking fire
like saltwater into my eyes
You were one inch from the edge of this bed
I dragged you back
a sleepyhead, sleepyhead