Shine Bright, District 1 <resubmission; finished>

Ever since I was a little boy, I was never a big fan of the subject history, with all it's facts, wars death and all those crap people really don't need to know about, since I don't see the point as to why we have to learn about the past, all we really need to care about is what is right here and right now. But people presume that we would try, I mean try really really really hard because nothing seems to get through the thick head of people, and learn from our mistakes. Sadly nothing really happen we are all just wasting our very precious time in trying to learn about a subject that is very useless in life.

I know I might have sounded stupid talking trash about history, but seriously it's my favorite subject in school because it's like riding a machine that would bring you back in time, but the true reason about my hate for that subject is also, as ironic as this could sound, my past. I never really got to talk about my past to people, not even my closes friends for the fear that I might make them feel sorrowful for me which I really hate since all I want are smiles and laughter, but a boy could not store all this pain in the back of his heart and staple a smile that people think is sincere but it really isn't. Sometimes I wish I could have also died with them so that we could all be happy and together in what is that place we go to when we die? heaven. Where we all could share smiles and laughter with each and everyone who are there and over all just have a sense of peace and joy. But sadly that was too much to ask for, so I live alone in my parents abandoned house but with my uncle sort of supporting me, well food and stuff I try to go hunting and sometimes I even trade some of my catch to the peacekeepers for them to allow me to hunt.

Well I'm getting ahead of myself I bet no one understands any of these things I'm saying so let me tell it from the beginning of my very sad? shocking history.

Ounce upon a dream, or at least I thought it was since nothing bad happened everything was just like a perfect song. The vocalist singing like an angel, notes as high as heavens, music serene like the wind, that was my childhood. My parents gave me everything I ever wanted, from more clothes to more toys. There was even one time I asked my parents for two dogs, a bid, three cats and a 6 goldfishes, but the cats ended up eating the birds and the goldfishes, the dogs started to chase the cat until my parents got annoyed and let them out of the house, but I think that the dogs killed the cats and some weird hobo killed the dogs. Well I wouldn't say that I was a pampered kid, okay maybe I was because my parents really treasured me a lot. They wanted to make sure that I got all I ever wanted, they say that if they gave me all I like that would increase my love for them which worked a lot.

I really loved them a lot, I couldn't even sleep if they weren't beside me. If I woke up early in the dawn and see that they weren't beside me I would cry and cry until our housemaids would have no other choice but to look for my parents, and when they would return I would jump up to them and go back to sleep on their shoulders while they carry my little body back into their beds. But as we all know every song would come into an end, so did my life. I woke up one day and noticed my parents changing for work, my father tying the last knot on his tie and my mother putting on a little more concealer under her eyes. Rubbing my sleepiness away, and asking where on earth could they go this early in the morning. They said something about checking the safeness of a mine near our house, and that I would stay with my uncle for a while until they finish assessing the certain things on the mine. So they told me to get dressed quickly, so I did. The weird thing that happened was that my father suddenly appeared in my doorstep. He said that it was time for me to receive the token because I was already old enough, but I don't count 7 years old as old enough but maybe it was for him, he told me that it was passed on from generations to generations in his family's side. He said that it was a very special object that his great grandfather created out of his own hands, so he told me to close my eyes.

I did.

He slipped on a bracelet around my hand. My eyes shot opened to his tying of the bracelet around my wrist. It was an odd little thing, there was a little sapphire stone dangling as it's pendant and a dark type of string that wraps around my wrist. He told me that it was his lucky charm that helped him through the hard times during his childhood, he said that if you believed that everything will be alright the magic in the stone would help you in a way no on else could, then he kissed me on the forehead and left.

I was looking closely at the stone, dazzled by the way the sunlight would change color when it passes through the stone. My eyes were locked on the stone I didn't notice that I was going to hit a table, when I did our family portrait hit the ground and broke. My parents came and got me from the hallway and asked if I was fine, I was. My mother went to pick up the picture and said "Oh such a waste. I really loved the picture." Do you know the belief old people say that when glass break bad things always happened. I came into thinking that but quickly shrug of the idea of my parents dying today.

But I was wrong.

They dropped me off their parents home. He was my father's best friend, and he promised them nothing bad would ever happen to me. Three hours later, peacekeepers came to his house and said "Are you going to keep the child or surrender him to us, because his parents died in a mine explosion.", he looked at me and said to the peacekeeper "Sure." Just like that I was off to the orphanage.

I spent 5 weeks inside the orphanage.

On the first week I tried to adjust to the kids in there, some very depressed, others overly happy that it made them look insane, sometimes you would here laughter, other times you would here crying, moaning and all that. Everyone had to share the same room so it wasn't easy to get some sleep. But tried my hardest to smile and meet new people, keeping the pain inside myself, only crying whenever I'm sure everyone was fast asleep. During my parents funeral, I never cried, but I only stared at the bracelet my father gave me before he died. I didn't want anyone to see me cry especially my parents so called friend, promising to keep me safe but in the end selling me out to a bunch of assholes who placed me into the orphanage.

Week two, I already made friends with almost everyone in the orphanage, you would see me playing with them outside the house. But this week the pain of loosing my parents was beginning to emerge out of me. I caught myself thinking about my parents every spare time get, sometime a lost tear would streak down my face and I would hurriedly wipe it off, checking if anyone saw me cry.

The third week was kid of a boring week. I started to read books, lots and lots of them in one day, you would always see me reading even during meal time. I read books such as how to create fire, for future use, how to identify edible plants from the noxious ones. I also read about tales of adventure and all that fighting business. I learned a lot from the books I read and sometime I applied them to my day to day life. In the orphanage's backyard I started to create some sort of shed for future use.

The fourth week I started to plan my escape from the orphanage, completely isolating myself from the kids. I didn't want to create strong bonds that would affect my decision of leaving the house. I started sneaking food into my back pack for the next week, I also sneaked out some first aid things and my lucky charm, my fathers bracelet. My clothes were all packed up, and I also brought some of the books I read, The edible plants and the poison; Fire making for dummies. I was ready as I could ever be.

Week five, the week of my escape. I ran away in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep, my foot steps were silent and safely got out through the front door of the orphanage. My instincts told me that I should go into my house and hide there until the coast was clear, my next plan was to blackmail my parents friend into paying for my school, since there is nothing more precious than education. The week after I ran away, I noticed that no one was looking for me, no one noticed me running off, so I decide to accomplish my next task.

I hid behind the bush 15 feet away from my parents friend's house, I went through my plan over and over again in my head. First I needed to talk to him, and if he wouldn't listen that's where I pull out my secret weapon. The funny thing was when I returned home the first ting I saw was my father's set of knife on the kitchen table, as if waiting for me to pick it up so I did, I kept it inside my bag and tucked a knife into the sides of my pans covered by some sort of cloth that acted as its holder. The time came when he was about to go to sleep, so my plan went into action. I ran straight for his front door and hurriedly picked the lock, sweat trickled from my forehead and my eyes was looking everywhere expecting a peacekeeper to suddenly appear and arrest me for braking and entering, but finally the knob gave in and the door was open. I closed the door again silently as to not wake his neighbors up, luckily he wasn't married so it made my mission a lot easier. I quickly climb up into his bedroom and caught him there reading a book. He was surprised to see me but I didn't beat around the bush and told him I needed someone to pay for my schooling and food, because the food packed was quickly disappearing, but I did all that clutching the blade beside me, and I think he saw it glint because he quickly said yes and that was the end of it.

So today, I live alone in my old house and I get food from my uncle and he also supports me in school. So my father did really tell the truth, the bracelet he gave me really helped me in ways no one else could. It made me a survivor and a fighter.

It made me a grown man with a child's brain.

People always said that I am my fathers child because every time they see me they would always see my dad in front of them even if he is buried six feet under they still see him in me.

They say that if I had my fathers brown eyes, I was a keen observer since that was what my father always did, he was just a mere spectator in life. But that isn't me I always wanted to stand out and get heard by people. They also say that if I wouldn't comb my wooden colored hair I would look as messy as my father was, how he would always sit under a willow tree and read some books, well I bet if he was still alive he would be proud for his only son was following into his foot steps. My smile would also remind them of my father's, how his pale lips would curve at its end and his cheek bones would grow higher and how his eyes would sometimes grow small as if he were from another race, and that's how I would smile.

My semi-brown skin is a result from afternoons outside playing with kids when I was younger, especially the kids in the orphanage, but "I regret none of that. I don't care if I grew darker at least I still remind people of how my father looked like, in other words his memories wouldn't go forgotten but would be reminded because it is forever marked on my looks. But the only difference is that I am much taller. That is the only thing people comment about. They say that I got my height from my mother's side, but I couldn't quite believe it because my mother was much shorter than my dad, they say that I could grow into a giant. I have much longer legs and arm length compared to my father, that could become a real strong career if I wanted to, but didn't because I couldn't see what was the satisfaction you get when you kill people just to get fame and money.

They also say that if ever I become a career I would most likely win the hunger games because of my muscular build, but I don't quite believe them because you don't win the hunger games with strength alone you would also need to use strategies to get to the finally much faster and maybe just maybe win it. They say that I could scare the tributes away because of m height and my muscles and my broad shoulders, but I know a lot of people who doesn't get swayed by intimidation, in fact they battle against it.

So all things people say about me is sometimes a lie but a really convincing lie that might just persuade me into fooling myself that I'm much better than everyone, but sometimes what people say holds the truth to everything I ever loved so dear.

I'm a fighter.

That's for certain because of all the experiences in my life. Fighting might not be the right word to describe me because I don't meet challenges face to face, I create a strategy on how to meet it then that would be the time I would dive right into it because I would feel much braver that way, I think the word that would best describe me is the word survivor because I think of ways to get by easily with out much tears or sadness. Sometimes I do reckless things with out thinking about it, because I just love the feeling of adrenaline pumping through my veins, how my body would sweat everything out because of fear, fear of getting caught, fear of getting hurt, the uncertainty of everything just reminds me of how life is full of obstacles that would meet us face to face. I usually follow what my instinct says, because it got me through my nightmare past, where a combination of wit, luck and strength made me get through it easily. I could live on my own because know the basics of surviving alone I have been doing that for the pas 9 years or so, but now and then I would need money to pay for school because I just really love school.

Most might find it weird that I like school because most would complain about waking up early the petty things, but not me. I look into the future I think on how all this would affect my tomorrow, how all this could help me get a better life. Another thing that's different about me is that I hate artsy stuff, I hate showing emotions through poems, or drawings, or paintings, or even songs. I just hate the idea of being vulnerable to produce something wonderful and glorious. But that doesn't mean I don't try to succeed in it, in fact I try really hard to get a kudos from my teacher but it seems like everyone is much better than me which I really hate because I'm the only one good enough to do it right.

I'm highly competitive, but in a good way not the I'll kill you if I loose kind of competitiveness, because I really was just raced that way to think that everything is just a competition and you have to be at the top to get through life. I also don't share my feelings with anyone all you would see is a smile on my face, even if I'm mad, sad, happy my smile never fades. If you ask people if they saw me cry their answers would definetly be no because I never show them any sorrow for I do not like it when people are sad. I would try to do anything in my power to make everyone happy.

People say I'm insane but there is a part of me that agrees with it there is also a part that doesn't. For one I am bipolar meaning my emotions would change real quickly, when I'm sad I get really sad but I still have that smile plastered on my face which takes up a lot of self control but I mastered it since that was the only way I could somewhat help people become alright and not sad like me.