I Can't Take No {More} | | (Spesh)
Dec 2, 2012 2:39:37 GMT -5
Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Dec 2, 2012 2:39:37 GMT -5
Kamilah Sarabi Aten
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And she says oh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can't help her now
People always say that you can only fear the things thatcan harm you. But they are the ones who are fools. For even I, the self-proclaimed Queen of District Two, have a fear of something that can't necessarily[/color] harm me. It is imperfection. The thing that can ruin everything.[/color]
My fear had started at a young age. After being born to an unsuspecting family and crippling my mother at birth, who had always been a frail thing, I was weighed down by my father's want of me becoming the perfect Career.[/color] His first lessons were simple. He started to teach me the perfect ways[/color] at age 5. "Head up, jaw clenched, arms down at your sides, and shoulders back," my father would always preach. Those were the easy things, however. As I grew, so did the weight of the pressure he placed on my shoulders. "You're not holding the blade correctly," he'd say, before grabbing onto my chin and glaring down at me. "Don't make me dent that pretty face.
Sure, his rantings have molded me into the young woman I am today. The cold, intimidating girl that no one talks to, yet respect. I am, after all, the ideal girl. I'm not the smartest, but is that really necessary? Boys have called me beautiful a fair share of times, and I know how to defend myself. But what people don't see, is the fragile side of me I keep hidden behind closed doors. You see, when you have been trained your whole life to flee from imperfection, every little thing frightens you. I won't lie... I'm a fake bitch. I seem like the coldest, baddest, and cockiest thing to walk around the District, but it's just a mask. A mask I wish was real. In all honesty, I'm an always terrified and fragile girl. Everything I do, every movement I make, I have to analyze in my head. Over and over. My mind is like a corrupted maze in which I run through every day. And, so far, I've never found my way out.
I sit up in my bed and run my slender fingers through my light brown hair. A sigh escapes my lips and I cast my eyes downward. From what I can see, my cheeks are red. Flustered, and flushed-- one of the symptoms of crying all night. I bring a hand to one of my cheeks and inhale. When I exit the outer world and lay myself down on my bed, I am at my weakest. I rarely dream and I rarely have nightmares. Some nights I find myself laying awake for hours, just going through everything I had done earlier in the day. And, if and when I find a mistake in anything I had done, I feel a pain in my abdomen. A gnawing pain that tries to eat it's way to my spine. I fear that father will be angry, and that he will punish me. Or, as he says, dent my pretty face.[/color] I'm pathetic when I'm like this, but I change when I exit my chamber.
I make my way towards my bathroom, and I let the hot water from the shower-head cascade down onto my skin. I had always loved hot water. The burning sensation reminded me that I was alive, not just some opaque fragment that drifts around in this world. I cleanse my skin and run my hands through my hair, which are lathered in shampoo. My eyes are closed as smoky tendrils slip out from underneath the shower curtains and caress the bathroom mirror's surface. When I exit and dry myself off, I cast a glance upwards at the mirror. I am blurred. A blurry figure in an even blurrier world. I step forward, towel wrapped around my bare body and wet hair sticking to my neck, and I swipe a hand across the surface. Kamilah Sarabi Aten stares back. Today she will be strong, until the night sends her into her fragile agony.
I later find myself, after having my daily routine of an awkward conversation with my father at the breakfast table and looking guiltily at my crippled mother, walking the cobbled streets of the Town Square. I keep my shoulders back and head up. I walk with dignity and my eyes pierce straight forward. I waste no time casting pitiful glances at bystanders. I don't care if my mind is on overdrive, screaming instructions at me. I have to seem perfect on the outside, even if the inside is shattering like the fragilest of porcelain.
I peel my eyes away from their straightforward destination for one split second, and glare up at the sky. "I'll be alright."[/color][/blockquote][/size]
She's down in it
She tried her best but now she can't win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down
OOC: I'm so sorry if this is total word-vomit! This is the first time I've threaded with Kamilahor thread at all on this site, and I'm still trying to get in touch with her character. I'm not sure if her POV will remain in first person or not, seeing as how she is so complex, but it probably will! Anyways, take your time replying! Thanks for being so kind as to thread with me, Spesh!
Tags:
FC: Kendall Visser
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Lyrics: Her Diamonds, by Rob Thomas
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Shout-outs:
To the Spectacular Stare, for creating the lovely header-graphic that is shown above!
