Re: Asmerelda Faerxel, D5 { WIP }

INTRODUCTION.

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Hello. If it is information of me that you seek, here is the place to find it. Who am I? Oh, you should have asked earlier. Undoubtedly, if you live in my district, District 5, you know of me already. I'm quite a popular female there, truly. I am Asmerelda Faerxel. Before you inquire about my sexuality, let me make it clear that I am heterosexual, as straight as an arrow. Why, you ask, have I decided to expose all this information about myself? I want to give you a piece of me, allow you to view my brilliant lifestyle and personality and such all at once. I don't want you to hear misleading information when you first discover me, and I don't want any qualms about what happened in my history, or how I look, or what I act like. I want to set the record straight. Thus, I will tell you the following. I am seventeen years, three months, and two days old. I reside in the middle class area of my district, in the midst of a sea of mentally insane people, all of them off of them severely challenged but one. I have been officially diagnosed with Narcissim, although it is the doctors who are insane if they think that there is something abnormal about me. Clearly, I am quite superior n in both appearance and temperament. I will expand upon all of this, and more, later on. Oh, and before we get too much into the components that make me an individual, let me just tell you this; I am practically perfect.

APPEARANCE.

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"You are a bombshell."
If, daily, my mother had not showered me with useless compliments in order for me to appreciate beauty, would I be who I was today? Likely not. When she first told me, I did not believe it. I came to believe her words, take in her compliments; when I passed myself in the mirror, automatically, a praise for myself slid through my lips. That I was attractive, that I was sweet, that I was the best thing that had ever happened to the family. Generally, however, this praise centered around my appearance. Thanks to my mother, I know that I am gorgeous. Describing myself is complex in the simplest of ways. Usually, when asked for a physical description, I deliver all the basics. I am 5 feet and 7.5 inches approximately. I am svelte, equipped with a narrow waist and wide, well-defined, seductive hips. My skin tone is olive, and I am without one blemish but for one on right side of my nose; that is why the left is my best angle. Weight is a topic I do not discuss with anyone excluding my doctor. I am 135 pounds on the nose, and plan to remain that way. I often wear clothing (in which I fit into a size 3) that shows of my desirable figure and ample chest. About my face, you inquire? I ought to describe that too, I suppose.

I have a slight cleft chin, which I despise. It looks awkward on my face, and is preferable on men; I inherited it from my father. I have narrow eyes that change color when exposed to the sun. Usually, they are the hue of cinnamon. However, when in a light room or when the sun is shining -- or even simply when I am happy -- my eyes become a shade of dark hazel. I have often been told that I have a small head, but I disregard people who say such. My neck is long and graceful, and atop it, my face sits like a throne. I have a wide forehead, but my face gets increasingly narrow as you go downward toward my somewhat pointy chin. The beginning of my eyebrows are narrow, but do get thicker as they approach my eyes. My nose is long and flat, one of my few imperfections. I have full lips that I am very proud of. My top lip is smaller than my bottom lip, and naturally tinted a pink color. The space between my nose and lips is much too defined, unflatteringly so. As for my hair? Well, it is long and parted off-center, more toward the left. It is wavy but closer to straight than to curly. It is the color of sand on a beach, which I have only ever heard about and seen images of, a lighter shade of golden blonde. I am very proud of it, and much too vain to ever tie it backward and away from my face.

That is not all. I have thin arms but large hands. Though my legs and torso are balanced, I favor my flat stomach in favor of my buttocks, which is a bit too plump for my liking and rigid body standards. I have oddly small feet, which contrast my entire body and are more suited to a child than a seventeen year old girl. Each one of my fingers is slender, while my toes are all fat and unsightly. The clothing that I wear is girlish, with frills and all the works. Occasionally, I cut it myself, to play up my mediocre closet. On Reaping Day, I wear the red berry stain on my lips and powder used to clean babies bottoms on my face-- it is my secret to a flawless complexion. I wear a fancy, expensive pink dress with frills and ruffles that stops above my knees. I also wear clean, flat red shoes that sparkle in the sun. I so wish that I could wear the high heels that I see on television and particularly wealthy district members, but I simply cannot afford such a luxury, despite the fact that I do deserve it. At least, I think so. And I'm never wrong.

PERSONALITY.

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I am a brat. People say it, rarely ever to my face, and I don't believe them, but the purpose of writing this was to allow you to see how I truly am, so I suppose I must put my few flaws in here, too. I am truly of superior standard to anyone else. Conceited? Well, perhaps. If you would call it conceited to know your worth, then yes. I just so happen to be above everybody else. Beauty is the deciding factor in one's importance or self-worth. I, clearly, am beautiful. Therefore, I am almost perfect, and as a result, am decidedly the best thing that has ever happened to most people-- such is my belief. All of the Capitol and their beautifying procedures have nothing on me; I can walk into any room and easily be the most vivacious, the prettiest, the smartest, among so many other brilliant things, in my opinion. I have been told to be judgmental. I disagree. I simply make observations about people, and most often, they are accurate. They also say that I am a gossip. It isn't my fault if I know everybody's details and then proceed to spread the news, now is it? I use my beauty to manipulate people in a seductive manner-- always male, of course. Usually they're around my age, sometimes not. You could call it using people. It's just my way of getting what I want, similar to my habitual lying. A tall tale here, a slight exaggeration there; it provides entertainment. Further, however, the method of fake adoration is almost fool-proof. It has made me successful at times, pretending to be in love. I am showered with gifts and affection, and am such a believable liar that I almost believe that I too, am in love. The truth? Being in love is a sensation unknown to me. Someday, I long to experience it.

I often drop my accomplishments into conversations, and not only that, but various names and places too, to make me seem more worldly. I have impeccable manners upon first meeting someone-- later on, that person may be faced with the nasty truth. That I brag much too frequently about my "multiple talents" and accomplishments, some of them fabricated just to me me look better. It is generally very hard for me to mess up. And when I do, I believe that my sub-conscious has done so intentionally, simply to comfort those around me; they know that I am the best at whatever I do. It is true; I am determined. Shockingly, I have great work ethic --- I make up for what I lack in my brain with what I have in my beauty, and strive to be the best. Life itself is a competition-- and thus far, I am winning. Of course, I am-- just take a look at me! Girls worship me, boys are madly in love with my, and my friends and I are all exceedingly popular and likable. Likable, you scoff? Yes, it is true, unlike most of what I say. When I am not so focused on myself (hardly ever) I am witty and hilarious, easy to talk to and affectionate. Every person has a good side, after all.

I am perfection in it's purest form; flirtatious yet self-centered, but still, people admire me. This may be because I give off a flawless appearance and demeanor. After all, I am polite to those people who I don't know very well. Perhaps they can tell, though, that I am shameless. I am arrogant and cruel, and rather enjoy exploitation; it is sadistic, truly, but I can't help it. I have been told to be arrogant and cruel; I don't necessarily disagree with the latter, though I do not generally think of myself in that way. There are, in fact, some aspects of my personality that I'd rather ignore. Like the fact I was diagnosed with Narcissism, and the insecurity that I feel deep down buried underneath everything else, which fuels my need for constant praise and compliments -- and reassurance. With that being said, the people who dislike me are probably envious of me. After all, who wouldn't be?

I know all about envy. It is an emotion that I am very prone to, and very familiar with. I get jealous to the point of obsession. This happens with clothes, with items; I am materialistic. Whenever I see something that I want, which I do not have, I will stop at nothing to have it. It is irrational, I know, but most things about me are that way, I am told. For example, my selfishness. If in any situation, I will almost always thing about what is in it for me and no one else. I feel little to no concern for others; and when I do, the person is linked to me in some way. It isn't that I am unable to feel compassion, it's only that I find it difficult to do so. I have difficulty with empathy if the situation does not regard me, and honestly, I believe most other people do, too. Then again, I may be wrong. People have been wrong about me in the past, as well, especially in what they say about me. For example, they say that I am cruel (when in reality, I think of myself as rather nice), and that I am much too haughty-- though to that, I will admit that it is true. Regardless, they have no right to go saying such malicious things, like how I am secretly insecure because I need compliments to reassure myself. What nonsense! Well, it is my belief that insecurity is for ugly people. Therefore, it is physically impossible for me to be insecure. So there.

HISTORY.

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WIP. WILL COME BACK LATER.[/sub]