*drowning in a river of denial {matt

Glaucia wasn't really going to live out her whole life living in what she was currently doing. Which was basically dying her hair obsessively and pining away for her mother to take her home so she wouldn't be so paranoid about not being in the games. She was holding on by her fingernails and didn't really intend on doing anything that related to the district to the least, and was instead stuck sitting inside and would rather not be outside among the fishiness that was the district. Think of the poor fish. Think of how they were dying to save your stomach from everything. She sighed and shook her head, finally sucking it up and deciding that she needed to go outside and maybe do something that would give her lungs fresh air. And it'd make her hair less disgusting, because she knew that salt was good for her hair and it'd work. Yes, it'd work.

So as she walked out of her house, she turned around and sighed, looking down at her dreadfully plain shoes, in which she had no part in choosing. As "work shoes" or whatever her conspiratorial aunt had said about them. She didn't know. She didn't pay attention to her meek, graying aunt who seemed to have everything but her teenage housemates in place. Rolling her eyes, she walked through the district, head held high. Whatever that may mean.