Post by 1a arcadia lumiere-fray [cait] on May 21, 2022 7:25:29 GMT -5
I think I’m supposed to have my life figured out by now.
Like, Annabeth’s known since she was 3 years old that she was going to take over her family’s restaurant once she graduated. She makes a point to remind me every afternoon she spends sprawled across my bed, inspecting her perfectly manicured nails.
I guess it figures. She’s never had to work a day in her life. She’s had all the time in the world to perfect her ten-year life plan all the way down to which street she’s going to build her house on. Meanwhile I’m always two steps behind and just trying to live up to the girl she’s built me up to be.
I know I sound bitter, but I’m not. I love that girl to bits, truly. She’s my soulmate. She taught me everything I know about pop culture, fashion and climbing to the top of the totem pole that is the glitz and glam of teenaged Capitol royalty. She took an awkward eleven-year-old with a freckled face and glasses under her wing and taught her how to walk with confidence. How to command a room with just a sentence. How to smile with just the right amount of teeth to look approachable yet untouchable. How to put in contact lenses. How to self-dye your hair without looking like amateur hour. How to become someone shiny and new and capable.
For the most part.
“You’ll figure it out, Pops. You always do.” She blows tendrils of smoke across my face before leaning over to kiss my cheek sweetly. She means well, like always.
I don’t know though, I’m not too sure anymore. I’ve swapped my majors three times already and by now there’s probably photo of my face pinned to the corkboard of the career counsellor’s office with a WARNING label stapled on my forehead. I’ve never fully recovered from the shattered kneecap that ended any hopes of fulfilling childhood ballerina dreams. I’m one more sexuality crisis away from becoming the biggest disappointment of my parents’ lives. My luck’s been running out for years now.
That’s why I need this.
I’m armed with sharp wings drawn across my eyelids and stiletto nails painted electric blue. I start towards the building entrance, but a guard stops me before I can even start to ascend the grand staircase. I thrust the gold envelope held in my hands into his face before he has the chance to question me.
“Department?” he asks as he slides a finger across the top, breaking the seal.
Tech, machinery, analytics, merchandising. Honestly, take your pick. Your guess is as good as mine.
“Costumes and styling.” It seemed as good a choice as any. Easy enough. Lowkey. And surely something good has to come from being surrounded by all of that inspiration.
Maybe this is how to be my own person again. Maybe this is how we grow.
The guard nods, once, and ushers me forwards into the sterile cold of a brand new world.