Adam Cristoe District 12 Edited and done.

I am a thin tall male. I have piecing grey eyes. My eye brows bushy. My mood is what shows up in my appearance the most. Sometimes I look like a lunatic, sometimes I look normal, and sometimes it looks like I don’t care. Then when I actually do care I look sad. I never got why I looked sad when I care. IT’s a curse.

I am underweight, due to a mixture of not eating, and not having enough. . I mark up my beautiful body with cut marks and burns, designed beautifully. All around my body you see tigers, and wolves and all sorts of animals that no longer are known if they went extinct or not. I like them because they are unique like me. The only one I dislike was the one time I went for my face to make a beautiful eagle on it, I could not take the burning of my face. I stopped half way through. It looks like a demented figure eight. Curse it! My hands are burned completely around from my designs. This makes them swollen. Big and swollen. I use them to my advantage anyways.

My teeth glimmer yellow. Yellow from the lack of teeth brushing. My teeth are perfect except for them being yellow, and I am missing a tooth. It never grew in I guess. When I am making designs I have a contemplative look on my face, unlike the angered one most people would imagine. My body is known to others as a retched piece of work. They don’t like what I have done to my body, and my teeth. Which reminds me, out of school, I only where a pair of boxers. This is to show off my designs

I don’t care what people think. You can say I think you are going into the games, and I would not care. Do I want to go into the games, no. Am i scared of the games no. It is a part of life here. I really don’t think it is worth it worrying. I don’t care about the games, which means I really don’t want to hear other people’s thoughts on the games.

You will often see me talking to myself. You would think that I am talking to an imaginary friend, false, fact is I like to talk to myself. I like hearing myself speak. It reminds me of what a great person I am. I need that reminder. It keeps me from jumping off the edge from designing myself with the use of burns to literally jumping off of a cliff. I need to keep my self esteem up.

It is not that I hate people, and would not help them with anything, it is just that with my own problems on the plate, I rather not deal with other peoples. I love my parents, but I don’t think they make my life much better. I never get a chance to see them. We only exchange notes, then I am off to school as they come home for sleeping time. I am a good student at school, I learn about panem, and realize as many complaints as I have about my life, I rather not put the burden on to the teacher, like I don’t like it happening to me so why do it to someone else. I keep my worries to myself. I love to design on my body to express some feelings. )

My parents are said to be “bad” citizens. They were caught near the gate in the meadow, playing with me when I was a baby. The peace-keepers blew it out of proportion. They claimed my parents were trying to leave the district, when they were not. They ordered my parents to thirty slashes each, and as soon as I was old enough to go to school, twenty years of night mining, and five hours of overtime for each of them a week. This is how I became so alone.


I come home after school, my parents sleeping. I work on my home work, then I eat something if there was any, and I would go to sleep. I would wake up, they were gone. Gone until I got home. Sleeping every time I was home. I have had only ten hours of social time with them, in the past five years. I don’t know if that is precise, but you know five minutes here five minutes there. I feel lonely, and have felt that way since I was ten. I used to have grandparents who looked after me once in awhile, they slowly stopped when I became older. I was hungry every other day, but my parents worked so much and yet I hardly saw them awake. I begin to feel a bit sad, and even suspicious even. I began to think that my parents just don’t want to see me. In fact I think it is true.

That is where me talking to myself, and me designing myself came into play. First little things. i learned to start fire in my fire place, I would grab a medal rod off of the bed frame dip it in the fire, and quickly design a turtle on my ankle by scarring it by burning my skin. It burned like hell, but I felt like hell. My parents never saw me, for all I know that whole story is a shamble, even my grandparents have stopped seeing me. Every week I started to design. I have ten turtles across my left leg that contained the first turtle on my ankle. I have one messed up figure eight that I got from an attempt at designing my face, and I have countless other designs all across my body. I talk to my self every day. I think it gives me an excuse sometimes to walk around in my briefs. I don’t know how considering I am a A student, but everyone thinks I am insane, but in actuality I am just depressed.