carmen montgomery ,, district 10 done

[attr="class","CVimg2temp1"]

[attr="class","CVcontent3temp1"]

People always tell me how charming I am. How easy it is to talk with me, laugh with me, understand me. It's like I am the perfect image of the girl you wish you could be. A vixin with killer eyes and curvy body yet sweet and soft like an angel. Sexy yet intellectual. It's a marvel know a days to be both. They all love me, or at least that is what I am told. One blink of my cartoon eyes and I have everyone under a spell. A spell that makes them only see what I want them to see. All they see is a girl that gets what she wants and is the perfect role model. I tell them I am having fun.[break][break]

I am lying.[break][break]

What they don't see is the real me. No one is perfect in this world, it just isn't possible. The Capitol made sure of it. I was living with my grandmother since I was 13 years old. She used to be able to care for me but for the past two years I have had to care for her. Her crippled body doesn't allow her to fully take care of me like she used to. It's seems that time is cruel to such caring people. My grandmother had done her time, raising five children off of barley anything. But now she had to take car of her grandchild, the one who was beautiful and talents yet utterly unwanted. My mother has a life full of 'unwanteds' so to say. An unwanted marriage to cover up an unwanted baby with an unsuitable man from her parents. That unwanted marriage with an unwanted baby led to her being a bitter lady of 25. It was my seventh year on this earth when my so called father left her. Said he had enough of the lies and everything else my 'crazy' mother and the 'bastard' had caused for him. I didn't know what the word 'bastard' ment or certainly who he was referring to at the time, but now his words ring in my eye as though it defines me. His words defined my mother. She drank herself into a state where she was content with herself. So many nights where I had to drag him up to bed myself. Everything I did was by myself for so long. It wasn't for six years until I was taken away from her, mother being to sick to take care of me. I don't think she cared much. "Take her away. She caused me enough pain." [break][break]

Grandmother was a dream compared to her. She cooked food and asked me about my days at school. On Sundays, she would even sit down and play a game of chess with me as she drank her morning 'youth tea'. A herbal mixture with lavender and a drop of gin. Grandmother never let me drink it because I was already young and beautiful. I thought it was magic but even her magic tea didn't stop her from becoming what she drank not to be. Her body soon failed her and her home cooked meals, conversations and chess games slipped into nothing. I soon began taking care of her and when They found out, I was placed in a community home until I was old enough to fend for myself. Grandmother passed seven weeks after I moved into the house. They let me go to her funeral. It was peaceful and beautiful, just like her. [break][break]

"You don't want to be like me,
Don't wanna see all the things I've seen." [break][break]

It took awhile for me to realize this cramped and grey place would be my new home for the next 4 years of my life. I even tracked down my father, who told me to get out of his life and stay out. His harsh words cut me like a knife but I refused to believe that I was alone in this world. I even tried to find my birth father who may not even know I exist. But he had a family, a beautiful one with a beautiful wife. I could never be apart of something so beautiful like that. Everyone seemed to think I was apart of some big happy family. I wasn't, I was all alone in a house with children who I didn't even know. It seemed that I was the exact opposite of what they all thought I was. I give them butterflies and when I laugh, it's like ripred. Oh Ripred, they all believe it why can't i? [break]

I am dying. [break]

"You don't want to be like me.
Looking for fun, getting high for free." [break][break]

They think I was perfect yet I am always searching for someone to love and who will love me back. I was so desperate that I sold myself for someone to act like they loved me for a night. Soon I became obsessed and I was known. I was the Queen. Finally, I was known for something other then my smile. Yet I wasn't proud of it. The streets I walked, I walked them mean just to earn more money to support myself. Every night I used to think that one of these people would actually love me but instead I just get some coins. Now, I don't really expect anything of myself. I am just for amusement and nothing more. No one is capable of loving someone so broken. My routine became my lifestyle. Waking up in strangers beds and trying to get up without walking up so they can see who you truly are. I guaranteed a good time but I still felt alone. [break][break]

I say, "You don't want to get this way.
Street walk at night, and a star by day."I warn, and they don't listen. [break][break]
As I walk into the room I throw my purse down and collapse on the couch. There is a glass ahold empty of some scotch and the bottle sitting on my table next to me, I sit up and swallow the rest of the glass and pour myself more. Maybe if I drink I won't remember. I won't remember him, my night, my life, or myself and the pain. I was all dressed up and I had no where to go. It seemed to be the story of a girl that only I knew. Relying on the kindness of strangers, Tying cherry knots, smiling, and doing party favors was all just a big joke that happened to be my life. It was all a scam, it wasn't me. That's not who I am! Yet I couldn't figure out who I was. My swagger and grace seemed to disappear with every sip, gulp, and cup I drank. I was red to forget who I was at the moment. I wanted to forget that I was supposed to be perfect. I wanted to forget I was a whore trying to find love in whoever would pay me the right price. [break][break]

Mon amour, je sais que tu m'aimes aussi[break]
Tu as besoin de moi[break]
Tu as besoin de moi dans ta vie[break]
Tu ne peux plus vivre sans moi[break]
Et je mourrais sans toi[break]
Je tuerais pour toi

[break][break]

My hand trembled as I wrote, sipping my drink quietly. I read it over to myself, saying it louder and louder until I am screaming. My echoes fill the empty room of the house left in my name. So many writers write what they feel, they feel beautiful things like love. But I don't write about what I feel, I write about what I want to feel. My poems should be lost in my sorrows of my tears instead of the sunlight of love. My love for Grandmother and her love of French was not the love I was stretching for. No, I wanted someone who would die for me. Someone who wanted me and only me and everything I was. Yet I don't have any of that. I don't have Grandmother, I don't have someone who will listen to me say French love Poems to them, all I have is me and my drink. I stand up and rip my paper in half, throwing it and my glass at the floor in a buzzed panic. [break][break]

Reaching for the top shelf, I grab a bottle of gin and slid down the wall. Gin reminded me of Grandmother and her healing tea but also my mother and her frenzy."It's ok." Tears stream down my face as I pop open the bottle. The sickly smell which repels others comforts me."I am going to be ok." Taking another swig I close my eyes. Soon this pain will end. I am not lying to myself - I am beautiful, happy and not alone. At least that's what the liquor tells me. And right now, I am ok with lying to myself. [break][break]