i.keep.the.words.you.throw.away {Michie}

Czar was one of those people that really needed a life. Well, not in the sense that he didn't live or breathe or anything, he'd usually insist, but more in the fact that he spent his time doing worthless little things like chasing around insects or playing with his hair before moving on to the next activity, whether it be fetching another cup of coffee from the coffee machine or drawing an animal and failing pathetically at labeling it with the proper grammar or whatever. He wasn't the most intelligent person on earth, but he wasn't stupid. Just because he couldn't pay attention to things didn't mean he was stupid. It was probably one of his most frequent thoughts, because his older sister acted like he was pathetically unable to do things by himself. If he could hold a spoon by himself, he was pretty sure he'd be able to do his own reaping eligibility forms. The white slip he had to fill out for the reaping had been sitting on his desk, though, until the day before the reaping, and when asked about it by his parents who probably didn't care if they were turned in early, nonetheless turned in at all; had questioned him about it, he said he'd gotten distracted.

Which had been very true. His ADD was rather underestimated, and he was constantly looking out the window and wondering what he could do next. Usually during this, if he didn't have a cup of coffee perched at his side, that could be what he was thinking about. Which was kind of what the current situation was, minus the fact that his parents were trying yet again to convince him to give career training for the next year, and all that fun stuff. But they knew that Czar wouldn't be listening, and he wasn't listening to the mindless babbles. Instead he was fixated on his left hand and how it twitched every four or so seconds. To say the least, this was probably one of those things that really should not be observed, but the easily distracted Czar did it anyway, his mind then catching the attention of an ant crawling across the wooden flooring in the house.

While Czar's family may not of been the wealthiest in the district, they were roughly middle class and thus, had nice wooden floors and clean premises and such, so seeing an ant was an uncommon occurance in the house. Watching the six-legged animal march across the flooring, his blue eyes looked around nervously. His mother was explaining nothing that seemed to be of importance to him, but in the moment, the only thing that really mattered to him was the ant that was crawling on the ground. In fact, he didn't want to just think about the ant that was moving across the ground in such a steady fashion, but he'd rather just be that ant. He wondered what it'd be like to actually be the ant, what it'd be like to be so small. Being small would be strange, honestly. Being the size of an ant would make your food supply last a lot longer, and quite possibly the sugar supply... Speaking of the thought, Czar snapped back into reality of his father droning on about different health benefits and how that sugar and caffeine was going to have to turn into fat someday and blah de blah de blah... He knew for sure that his metabolism was going to remain the same, and with all the bouncing off the walls he did, he was pretty sure he'd never be overweight....

Snapping back into a reality, his parents finally looked at him with an expression of disbelief and he just nervously shook his head and dashed up the stairs to his room, hoping that the caffeinated soda he had stored in his closet, buried deep, was still there. Running his fingers through the large amounts of dirty socks and sweatshirts, he sighed and kicked through the pile, trying to think of why in the hell there were only sweatshirts and socks. Two items, where were the hats and the soda he had been looking for? He pondered this for a second before digging deeper into the pile, unable to pry a soda can from the disgusting mob of clothing items. His intentions had been forgotten due to his mind trying to put together different forms of where the can could be hidden, eve though it was only two inches away from where his hand had stopped, midsockpile. He just decided to screw it and do something productive... Like go for a walk. Walking was nice.

Striding down the stairs, he threw on a pair of shoes as he dashed out the door, thinking about how he needed something like coffee. No, that soda idea had went down in flames, but coffee could always work. Coffee had to be one of his favorite things, probably because he was attached to the caffeine that was in it.... Yeah, that explained it. Running down the street with no particular mindset, his shoe caught a rock and he nearly tripped over, scraping his knees and making him think about how blood was particularly gross looking....