carmen. d8. finished.

In all honesty my life has been pretty damn boring so far.

I go to school. I go to work. I come home. I cook. I make sure my siblings are behaving. I check up on my Dad, I make sure my siblings are doing enough with their time now so that if they're not reaped they'll do something better with their lives than I will. I put them to bed. I check up on my Dad again. I brush my teeth and stare at my sad reflection in the mirror and wipe the grime off of my nose. If I'm lucky I get to read a book for five minutes and then I sleep, wake up, do it all over again.

Sixteen years and what have I got to show for it? Just myself, average, sooty face from working a part-time job because my Mom disappeared and my Dad couldn't cope. My younger siblings think she's coming back but I'm not as naive as them. I know a Peacekeeper probably shot her in the head or something, whatever. I'm not sad about it - I'm just kinda mad, more than anything. I feel abandoned most of the time, and when Dad's not at work he's crying, so I just make do. I don't have time to do other things. Hence my unimaginative life.

Look, my Mom going awol is kind of interesting I guess but that shit happens here all the time - it's kinda normal. Dead Moms, dead Dads, dead siblings, dead tributes. District 8 has... uh, Shelby, I guess. See? Nothing imaginative.

Oh, I guess there was this one thing. When I was eight, some Capitolites came here to shoot a new line of clothing or whatever and they wanted to pick out people from the District to model them. Ripred knows why - probably just a marketing strategy or a capsule collection or whatever they call our blood sweat and tears - but they got all the little kids huddled together in the school hall and they picked out me, amongst a few. I guess I was cute back then. Looked like my younger sister, big brown eyes and freckles, not too extravagant though. Still gotta be plain enough to look like a District kid. Can't go dreaming of luxury or anything.

But yeah, that happened. They gave us a copy - just to look at - I think it's in the Justice Building now as some sort of memorabilia. But I remember the camera being a bit startling, lots of white, but they gave us a drink that made me giggle and I got to eat something called toffee. Guess I'm not made for stardom because after that it was a pat on the head and back to reality. I'm sure my Mom probably loved it, who knows, she didn't stick around long enough to tell me.

Okay so I'm a little bitter about the whole Mom-Dad-Siblings situation. Can you blame me? I'll always love my Dad but he just looks so pathetic sitting in his arm chair weeping into a damn photograph of a dead woman. I didn't want to learn how to cook and clean at age 10 but it's been 6 years and he's only finally getting his shit together, working at the same factory I'm stationed at to top it all off. Yeah, thanks Dad, way to embarrass me in front of my co-workers.

Perhaps I'm hard-working, perhaps I'm just making the most of my situation. If Dad isn't gonna step up that's not my brother and sister's fault, they shouldn't have to suffer just because he is. I know they miss Mom, and that's fair. But they're kids. And they still get up every day and go to school and move on in some aspects of their life. They've adjusted. I have. But Dad? He forgets to wipe the soot off of his face, I check twice to make sure he has. 

Guess I just don't have time for wallowing. I never used to be so cut-to-the-chase. Maybe I'm still mourning, maybe this is my way of coping with loss, who the fuck knows. Six years of holding my breath once a year at the Reaping, and where have my parents been?

At least Mom's dead. 

What's Dad's excuse?