Saxton Hale:||: D5 :||: FIN

grim. Capitol Resident 1,081 POSTS last seen Sept 30, 2020 18:45:26 GMT -5	Saxton Hale:\|\|: D5 :\|\|: FIN Apr 4, 2015 15:07:23 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by grim. on Apr 4, 2015 15:07:23 GMT -5 Sixteen\| District Five\| Female FC: Anastasia Pochernikova Code: Odair
	where my demons hide.

grim.
Capitol Resident

1,081 POSTS
last seen Sept 30, 2020 18:45:26 GMT -5

Saxton Hale:||: D5 :||: FIN Apr 4, 2015 15:09:12 GMT -5

Quote

Post by grim. on Apr 4, 2015 15:09:12 GMT -5

My looks were something I found myself avoiding to converse. I wasn't hateful of my appearance, I simply didn't believe in vanity. I rejected it like the many other things people should purify from their life's. Our world could be remarkably better, if only the human mind didn't force us to feel so much selfishness. It was a human instinct to feel sorry for ourselves, to cower away in our own misery, when so many others were facing much larger hardships. Their living life hurdling over mountain tops, and struggling throw muck filled oceans. There was so much hatred for each other, every single one of us believing that our situation was much worse then the next person's. My mother was one of these people, therefore I also avoid talk of my appearance. My hair was a crisp oak, slithering down my spine, like the falling rain. My eyes were a pastel blue, pure like the streaming spouts of the Capitol. Our water here in district five, was filled with black, black tar and debris that clouds our water streams, and leaves us wheezing.

My skin was a pasty white, blending with the crystals of ice that fall during the winters. I burned easily, so summers normally were a pain. My shoulders would redden, and my face would blotch. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Body was thin, lean, and lengthy. I stood at the height of Five feet, eleven inches. I was rather tall, and rather intimidating to boys my age. I was just a few pounds too thin for my height, so this resulted in visible bones, and thin waste bands. I was insecure with the way my body felt, the way it arched, and towered over all of the other girls. I was a spitting image of my mother, and I hated it. She didn't deserve a daughter, or any children of her own. She was a horrible person, and I still cant believe my father is capable of living with her. After what she did to our family. The only thing I acquired from my father was his height. He was also rather tall, about six feet six inches I think. I had stopped growing years before, so I wouldn't have to worry about becoming more of a freak then I already was.

--

I was rather independent. I liked doing things on my own, and so I did. There was no question, that when something was done right, it was because I had done it. I was rather picky, really only liked the way I did things, and hated when others did them incorrectly. I slowly lessened this want for "everything my way" over the years, but it would always be a part of the way my thoughts meshed. I had a hard time with affection. I found it uncomfortable. I didn't like the touch of others, and I sure as hell wouldn't touch anybody else. I found hugging my own father rather distasteful. There was no need to express your affection with physical contact. I wanted no part of it, and this also seemed to make me a laughing stock. How would I ever have children? Would I ever have my first kiss? What about a hug, from a fairly attractive boy? I didn't like to think that far ahead. If the right one came along, then I would deal with it then. Who knows, maybe my hatred for affection would change, but I didn't like the false feelings that were behind contact with another human. Really the false emotions that are felt during the contact with anything living.

I was a rather soft stomached girl, blood made me feel sick. It wasn't my own the bothered me. It was the blood of others. I hated seeing someone else in that mass amount of pain, and it made my stomach toss and turn, like a washing machine of hefty wash. It wouldn't be a rare site to see me blow chunks after seeing someone with a minor scratch. I wouldn't dare watch the games, it was horrifying. My eyes had only set their gaze on that screen one time, and that was a day I would never forget. Death didn't scare me, it wasn't death I was afraid of, it was seeing someones insides on their outside. Did this make me weak, was I a freak for that. Many children my age thought so. But the hell with all of them, they threaten me with their taunts of my death. They joke that if I were to ever enter that god for sake arena, that I would be the first to go. They weren't wrong, but It made me feel weak, it made me feel "less-then".

That was the one feeling I hated more then anything in the world. To feel submissive under someone else. I was the one that needed to feel dominance. Its not that I had to feel superior, I simply didn't want them to feel superior over me. I had no authority since the day I took my first breathe, and I wouldn't acquire one now. If I had to assert dominance in a situation, then i sure as hell would. And without the help of someone else. I was big on doing things for myself. Perhaps that is cause I practically raised myself. It was hard to raise a child while who spent more time whoring around. My mother seems to have never heard of the word faith. She had none, and seeing the broken eyes of my father just fueled my hatred. It was up in glorious flames, and she had no say in how I would use them. I would boil her emotionless heart down to nothing. I would listen to it crackle in the red hot flames, and turn to ash. She deserved nothing better, and if there was something worse that I could give her, then I'm open for suggestions.

--

I was brought up like most children I guess. I was an only child, and I thank god for that everyday, because it would be horrible seeing another child ruined from my parents stupidity. No child deserved to be brought up like that. Some people just weren't made to raise a child. Their mind just worked differently, they didn't think of me as their own, they thought of me as a material thing. I was simply a trophy to show the rest of our family. They didn't value any of my views, and they didn't take interest in any of my passions. I grew up in a way of life, that taught me to express independence. I cooked, and cleaned for myself by the age of five. And I was dressing myself from even younger. My parents didn't offer me money to buy what i needed to survive, so this resulted in me stealing their money to get what I needed. They often fought over lose of money. My father believing she took it to spend on her new hunk, and her believing he took it to waste his life away with more of that toxic water.

When there was no money in the house, I stole what I needed. I know it was wrong, but was it? I needed it for my own survival, and with the cards i was dealt there wasn't much else I could do. I had a rather decent group of friends, we ran through the streets, in the summer we paddled about in the polluted waters of district five. Sure it wasn't the most sterile thing to do, but we were kids being kids, which was a rarity in our world. Because I had sensitive skin, it was rare that i would put more then my feet in the water. I couldn't handle some sort of skin disease. I'm sure it would be just my luck, that i would be the only one to acquire it.

My family had a mass amount of flaws. Actually, there were a majority of flaws. I wonder if it was like this for most families? My mother was the kind of women to do things that most frowned upon. I was one of these people. The bottom line was, she slept around. The fact that I was her only child still amazed me. She took advantage of men, because of our good looks. It was disgusting, and cruel to toy with someone else's emotions. I hated her for this, and she showed little to no care for her own flesh and blood. My father seemed to care for me in my younger years. But as he aged, and his emotions couldn't handle the cheating wife he had hitched himself with. He began to waste away in drugs and alcohol. His days meshed together, and his life a blur. I didn't know how to comfort him, and he was so long lost that there was no bringing him back. The fact he was still capable of functioning in the oil refinery, was beyond me. I was born into a family full of hatred for each other, but it was all I had, and it was more then many children could say they had. I wasn't one to complain, I was grateful.

"She is bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh."

Last Edit: Apr 4, 2015 15:10:58 GMT -5 by grim.

where my demons hide.

grim. Capitol Resident 1,081 POSTS last seen Sept 30, 2020 18:45:26 GMT -5	Saxton Hale:\|\|: D5 :\|\|: FIN Apr 4, 2015 15:09:55 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by grim. on Apr 4, 2015 15:09:55 GMT -5 fin.
	where my demons hide.

grim. Capitol Resident 1,081 POSTS last seen Sept 30, 2020 18:45:26 GMT -5	Saxton Hale:\|\|: D5 :\|\|: FIN Apr 10, 2015 3:09:51 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by grim. on Apr 10, 2015 3:09:51 GMT -5 Bump?
	where my demons hide.

rook Veteran Member 2,361 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Sept 26, 2023 15:42:53 GMT -5 who needs another thing to be sad about?	Saxton Hale:\|\|: D5 :\|\|: FIN Apr 13, 2015 15:57:53 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by rook on Apr 13, 2015 15:57:53 GMT -5 Sorry! That fc is gorgeous. You have weighted the words in this bio so nicely, it was a really nice read. Accepted.
	an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside