augustine lin d2 | fin | cbd3
Dec 27, 2015 22:49:55 GMT -5
Post by Lyn𝛿is on Dec 27, 2015 22:49:55 GMT -5
Augustine Lin
eighteen. district two. male
When I was eight, my mother wanted me to train as a Career. "Even if you don't get selected for the Games," she'd said, "such training will serve you well when you become an adult and join the Peacekeeper forces."eighteen. district two. male
I had shown up at the Training Center that day, going through the motions with the other kids but with no great joy in the slicing of flesh or swinging of weapons. I did not want to fight others or enforce punishments or be a soulless automaton in a white mask when I grew up. The only part of the district I liked were the rugged peaks and sparse evergreen forests, away from the mines, away from the ominous military facilities that stood dead center in the town.
There, my thoughts could flow, feelings and experiences coalescing into words, rhythmic pentameter about life and philosophy and understanding. I felt called to the natural wonders that still surrounded District Two, the pristine landscapes still untouched by square quarries and towering buildings, where swords clashing and drills carving faded out into soft birdsong and rustling grasses.
I quit Career training, in the end, ignoring the words of others and the faces of disappointment and the District expectation to be aggressive and emotionless. To be human is to have the urge to create art, after all, not the urge to control, and fight, and destroy. And for now, I do not wish to care for anything more.
