Oliver Wren | District Eight {FIN}

I've always loved life in District Eight. Even though I'm from a rather poor family, I'm grateful for what I have, and have learned to ration my food and water, which has made me much better off. I make most of my clothing with the sewing skills that I've learned while living in District Eight. Since I've lived here my whole life, there isn't a whole lot of other things for me to learn to do, anyway.

Of course, I hate the thought that’s always lingering in the back of my mind. It scares me, that thought. This particular thing that I can never seem to stop thinking about is the reaping. Sure, I haven’t been chosen, but I’m young, and the Games don’t seem to be going away any time soon. It’s terrifying, really. I don’t think I’d survive if I went into the arena. Actually, I’m almost positive that I wouldn’t. There’s no way a small, skinny boy like me with no fighting skills whatsoever could ever do such a thing. Besides, I’d never be able to convince myself to take another human’s life. At least, I don’t think I could. It’s difficult enough seeing the occasional dead bird on the sidewalk. I don’t want to be the cause of a death, or even have to witness one.

There are quite a few people in my life that I love dearly. There are my sisters, Josie and Miranda. There are also my brothers, Henry and Reggie. My parents are quite dear to me as well. Of course, among all of those that I love, there’s also a boy. A special boy. I’ve never been sure how much he cares about me, but I care for him deeply. Jory Brontz is a special person to me. His eyes shine in the light, and my eyes of dark brown gaze back at him, a smile crossing my pale, pink lips.

I hope that Jory sees me in the same light that I see him. I care deeply for him, and don’t want anything bad to ever happen to him. I spend much of my time thinking about him, as well as how difficult life must be for the other boy. He had lost his sister to the Hunger Games a few years ago. I wouldn’t know how to handle something like that. If something were to happen to Josie or Miranda, it’s likely that I would break down.

Of course, no one can spend their entire life focused on one other person, right? I also spend a lot of my time around music. I often hum tunes to myself, my favorite being an old folk song that Miranda taught me. My guitar, however, is one of my favorite things that I have in my life. I love to sing while playing various tunes on it, and I’d say that I’m quite talented at doing such. I’ve received compliments from many people on my music.

Sometimes I enjoy hearing what others think of me. I don’t often get upset, so when people’s thoughts about me are negative, I am not too bothered by them. I am, however, a bit of the jealous type. I tend to feel that others are better at something than I am, and I yearn for the day that I can live up to that. It makes me a bit angry when I can’t accomplish something I’ve tried extremely hard for, especially when it involves my music.

Even though I don’t usually care what other people think of me, I still sometimes judge myself. I set my own expectations for myself, and if I can’t meet them, it can be frustrating. I hate how pathetically skinny I look. It’s almost unhealthy in appearance. I’m far too pale, and my limbs are just a bit too long. Unfortunately, even though these don’t meet my own standards, I can’t fix them. There’s absolutely nothing I can do about it, and I’ll have to live with how my body is.

All in all, I hope that my life works out as planned. I hope that no one I love and care about, including myself, ever has to face the terror of the Hunger Games. I hate the thought of it, and I don’t want it to become a reality. Unfortunately, for many, it is a reality. Now it’s just my job to avoid it. Maybe I’m hiding from real life with my music and my love for Jory. Maybe hiding is helping me survive.