oona st. james d7

seventeen; freak of nature. lover of ugly, broken things. tame but only just.

later on, i caved, and i sent father after her. 

what can i say? i was weak, and there is a softness in my heart that plagues me, and makes me a slave to all of the things in the world that need the most love. junie did, and so i told, and they brought her home. 

it was quickly apparent that she wasn't made for this world.

she was a child of the forest; we'd tell her that the faeries must have left her accidentally, but i think we all suspected that it was witches, instead. district seven never fit quite right on her. she had a way of distorting things, showing you their flaws. she taught me a lot. i don't think i taught her anything, although i did try.

i was almost too big for fairy tales, then. but i tried to believe, until i simply couldn't anymore. at some point, you have to take the truth between your teeth and swallow it down, lest it get the better of you. 

2. 

i spend a lot of time looking through windows.

it is not jealousy that inspires this practice. i am simply interested. i wonder how it would feel to be a real person, rather than just the residue of one. 

i, too, can lay the cutlery. 

i can fold napkins, and roast chickens, and say grace. 

i can scold my little brother for talking with his mouth full. 

these things are not enough to make me whole again. 

i look through the glass, and on the other side are people. i kid myself that they are the freakshow and i am the audience. i find myself wishing that one day, one of them will look up, and meet my eye. maybe they will scream. they never do. 

i throw rocks into the pond and yearn for one of them to make a splash. 

until junie's name was called, i didn't notice the disappearing. but now i think about it, i think it started a long time ago.

finished!