Dana Brooke, District 11

There's not too much to explain when it comes to my appearance. In my life, beauty means nothing. No wait, cross that, it does mean something. If you're pretty, men might be more attracted to you, and if you marry you'll have another person bringing money into the house. Then again, in this district men take what they can get. Sometimes I wish that I could live in a world of beautiful dresses and kind, handsome boys, but I don't.

My eyes are strikingly blue, but since they're mixed perfectly with gray they seem softer than they really are. Medium length eyelashes border them, and angled eyebrows make people notice them. The outside layer of my hair (the layer people actually see) is a bright barbie blonde, but the inner layers are a light brown color. My hair is naturally filled with big curls that look manufactured, but they aren't. My skin is rosie I guess, a really light pink shade, but when I blush it turns bright red. I don't have any freckles to dot my face. My lips are thin and small, but I wear bright red lipstick to make them look pretty. My mother gave that to me before she left. A parting gift I suppose, but at the time I didn't know that.

I'm fairly tall I guess, about 5'7", and I weigh about 128 pounds, which is just over underweight. I have long legs which help me to run, and skillful hands that are good at tending fields and fixing objects. For extra money I often take things people have broken and patch them up so they work again. Yes, I'm quite skilled at fixing physical things, but I tend to ruin relationships. I'm thin I guess, but I wish I wasn't. In the winter I'm always freezing and usually I find myself hungry when I don't have much of anything to eat.

In all truth, I don't pay attention to my fashion trends, but I guess mostly I wear dark colored kakhi pants in the winter with long sleeved shirts, and light colored shorts and t-shirts in the summer. I always wear my lipstick though, and the old, dark green brand name sneakers I found at the train tracks. I can tell they're brand name because they have the word Converse written on them.

I tend to look at the glass of life as half empty, ever since my mother left and my father started drinking. I'm very sardonic a lot of the time, but I think I've earned at least that. People who don't know me could see me as rough arond the edges, and I gess I am I little. But really, I willingly wear my emotions on my sleeve. If I'm upset or angry, it's obvious. I don't see the point in hiding what I feel. However, just because I make my emotions obvious, doesn't mean I like to talk about them. I shy away from speaking to others about how I feel, and tend to keep it to myself.

But besides being angry, I can also admit that I'm sad most of the time. My mother, the one person I've always loved, left me, and my father turned to the drink. I have no friends because I'm not exactly the social type, and men make me uncomfortable because of my bad experiences with daddy dearest. I have immense trouble trusting people, but I wish to god that could change. The point is that besides just being furious at myself and my family, I'm also...well, pathetic. I keep my head and eyes down, and I try not to cry in public. A lot of that sadness comes from the feeling of being alone. I mean I don't have any real parents or friends, and I'm horribly bad at taking care of plants and animals. I've always wanted a little baby to love. A baby girl and a loving husband, someone who will always be there for me...I often daydream of meeting a nice boy, marrying him, and having a beautiful little girl. But those are just dreams, and dreams don't get you anywhere... and yet, I still tend to have them.

But I try my hardest to mix in some happiness to my overall negative life. I like to go outside in the woods, and working in the fields is actually comforting to me. I make it a habit to go past the outskirts off eleven, into the forest, and sing tunes up at the sky. Mockingjays always answer me in methodic tune, they never dissapoint me. I also must admit that I'm a bit mischevous. I take immense joy in hiding my fathers drinks. He comes home and gets himself in a frenzy looking for them, but by the time he realizes I've hid them I'm always out of the house. And by the time I come back, he's always found them and he's always passed out on the couch.

Well I'm sure you've already guessed the main point by now. When I was eight my mother left me alone with my father. Back then, Dad was actually a good man. I remember I would come home from school and he'd scoop me up in his strong arms and spin me around. He was handsome then too, with floppy brown hair and a soft face. But he was much weaker than I ever thought he was, because as soon as I showed him the note mom left us saying she was sorry but she had to go, he ripped it up in a rage, stormed out the door, and came home drunk off his a** late that night.

For the next few months I took complete care of him, but after a few months passed and he still wouldn't get out of bed, we were poor as dirt. I finally realized that I had better things to do with my young life than take care of him like I was his mother. If I had wanted a baby, I would have given up my virginity much earlier. So I left my father alone and ignored him. I didn't feed him, I didn't wash him, I did nothing. And one day he just got out of bed, went to the cupboard, and got a piece of bread. From then on he would do everything for himself...but nothing for me. And he still came home drunk as a horse.

My life before Mom left was actually a nice one. She would hold me close and love me, and my father would tell me beautiful stories. But even before Mom left we were still pretty poor. My father worked in the fields, and my mother worked at a failing book shop. I wasn't too surprised when the shop went out of business, seeing as few people in eleven can actually read. I guess it must have been that shop closing down that caused Mom to finally break and leave us. And after that everythign just went to hell...

In short, my life has been one long tragedy. I had a beautiful mother, father, and life, but that's all been taken from me. I have no friends, no real parents and no one to love...and I'd really like that to change.

Face Claim: Kathryn Newton