Jake Frimley ~~ District Four

Jake Frimley ~~ District Four Jul 23, 2012 17:30:27 GMT -5

Post by aquatic mammalian wh0re on Jul 23, 2012 17:30:27 GMT -5

Jake Frimley

Age: 19
District: Four
Sex: Male

Personality

Rebellious. Cunning. Smartass. Caring. Indifferent. Emotional.

Those are just a few of my conflicting traits. I’ve learned to put a mask, or a wall I suppose, of indifference to shield me from the pains of the real world. I’ve always asked myself: Why? Why do we even live, if we’re only here to succumb to the Capitol’s inescapable wrath? I believe we should all have some kind of purpose. Except, it’s difficult for me to see that purpose. In myself, in others, in life. I’ve tried to figure out what I could do to better this world like my father said, but I don’t know. I’m not that man that he was. I’m not down to earth and warm-hearted. I can’t make everyone happy like he could.

I have a huge problem following rules. Since I was young, authority was always a foreign term to me. The only person I actually looked up to was my father, but after his passing, no one could live up to his image. I still respect and love my mother, who misses him as much as I do, but it will never be the same. In school, I would get in trouble for messing around and such. It reflects in my personality now, too. Ask the district’s Peacekeepers – they all know my face. It’s okay, I kind of like that. It gives me someone to be, even if it’s not a perfect someone.

I mentioned a bit about being caring. It’s true; I’m actually a pretty nice person. But, I judge people and decide whether or not they are deserving of my kindness. Only one person has really made that kind of effect on me: Alana. She’s my best friend, and I really don’t know where I would be without her. She comforted me when my father died, and then years later, upon her sister’s death, I was able to comfort her. We’re an excellent pair, but as of right now we’re just friends. I won’t even admit it to myself, but I do love her. I mean like, as more than a friend. She doesn’t see it though, I know it. I’m like a brother to her and it kills me, but I deal with it because I’m lucky to even have her in the first place. She quite literally completes me.

My mom said when I was young that stifling my emotions is bad for me, and she was probably right. I didn’t listen to her though. I made a habit of hiding my true feelings and thoughts for everything and putting on a mask so no one could know the real me. Alana knows about this, and she understands, but I can’t say that I’ve completely opened up to her about my hidden emotions. I wouldn’t know how to do it. I hide love, joy, sorrow, grief, and every other feeling under the moon. How do I do it, you ask? Well, I act like I don’t care about anything. Pretend everything is a joke to me, even though it’s not. Laugh it off every time the Peacekeepers catch me stealing something, or pretend it doesn’t bug me when Alana is with a boy. I’ve dealt with it for years, and it’s become an easy habit for me. I do it in my sleep.

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Appearance

I’m attractive enough to get my way out of troubling predicaments. Honestly, that’s all I care about. I don’t normally seek the attention of girls, and I don’t give a crap about how filthy people might see me. But, I keep myself clean and healthy because I hate being underestimated. I won’t allow people to see me as a weakling. To make sure that didn’t happen, I’ve built thirty pounds of muscle to add to the intimidation factor. I was kind of a scrawny kid, and I hated it, so I made it a goal to change it. I’ve always been tall though. I reached six feet when I was about fourteen, and I’ve grown another inch or two since then.

My hair is usually fairly long. Straight and a sandy brown color. I don’t mind cutting it short, but having it longer is just more comfortable to me. I often wear a hat to cover it up, anyways. My facial hair grows really fast, which can be annoying, because then I have to shave several times a week. You’ll only ever see me with a bit of stubble or clean-shaven, because I don’t want a beard. I just don’t find them appealing. Alana says I would look good with facial hair because I have a nice jaw, but it doesn’t matter to me. That might be one thing she says that I actually do shrug off.

My eyes are a nice shade of green that I like, speckled with a bit of brown. Some might call it hazel. Thin eyebrows, and thin lips, which you’ll usually find in a satisfied smirk. Many scars dot my forearms and hands from years of fishing. I learned to fish from my dad, but that’s a different story. I don’t mind the scars, really. They’re actually a sort of reminder of the times we had together, out in the ocean, feeding our small family. Now, I still fish, but just for Alana and me to eat and sell. I’m really good at it, so technically I don’t have a real job. I just provide a portion of our food and sell the rest of the fish to buy other things we need. Luckily, we’re not very high-maintenance, and we don’t need a lot of extra things. I kind of like clothes though, or at least having them. Looking sharp in new clothes is also something that won’t make me look poor or weak.

History

I grew up with Alana, and my past intertwines with hers in a way. My mom made me stay in school when she dropped out, but finally when I was sixteen, I moved in with Alana. She had gotten her own little home a few years before, and we were able to support ourselves. Home wasn’t right without my dad, anyways, so I think it was for the best that I got out of there. I never stayed home, which was how I ended up getting in trouble. Now, I always have something to do. There’s never too much money, too many things to buy. At least the trouble with the Peacekeepers has gone down some. I’ll still never lose the rebel in me, though.

Well, it was bound to get to this at some point. I’m talking about my father. It was all very tragic, but now when I look back at it, it could have been a lot worse. He died slowly, which I took as a blessing. At least I knew it was going to happen, and I had time to tie the end of every knot. I showed him that I had perfected the techniques he showed me, I brought buckets of seafood home, and I did everything I could to make him proud. It still couldn’t save him though. Nothing I did could save him from his ilness. But that’s why I still try to be like him. I’m still trying to impress him. Somewhere, deep inside me, I know that.

Right after my father’s death, grief and anger got the best of me. I punched kids at school, stole from the market, spent nights away from home. Only Alana understood me at the time. Did I mention we were only eleven years old? No child should ever have to go through that, no matter how much they might deserve it. I love how the same thing happened to Alana. Not meaning I’m happy she got to experience it too, but because we understand each other more. We know each other’s pain and indifferences, and it makes us all the more perfect together. I spend sleepless nights wondering if she sees it like I do. Knowing she’s just across the room, sleeping soundly, kills me. How badly I want to be with her and support her forever. I know that can’t last forever if she finds a husband. I would no longer fit in. Which is why I have to marry her, and I have to get her to fall in love with me. Nothing else could be more perfect.
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