Aleta Green, District 7

I've heard different people say what people SHOULD look like and WHAT is beautiful. Well me? I don't give a care. And besides, "tall, blonde and beautiful" doesn't hide you from sight. I have to say, I don't look remarkable, but I do like to describe myself in good detail. The first thing that people notice about me is my eyes. They're the deepest black you'll ever see. My eyes are so dark that people actually can't see my pupils. I've heard them talk about my eyes, why I don't know, but they say that they're the mark of a curse or something. People get lost in them, trapped. So deep, so dark. I've got to tell you, they're my most proud feature. Black eyes are an unusual color. I like them because they're unusual, and no one else has them. I like to hang on to my individuality. My hair's long, down to the middle of my back. It's blacker than the darkest of midnights, and it flows with no breaks or creases. It often helps me with sneaking around, because it blends in with the night. I haven't really had a problem with acne, but I get a few zits now and then. That's my face anyway.

I'm about 5'8". I'm fairly skinny because I don't eat too much. Not much of a long story if you know Panem well. Yeah. I said it. Despite my petit physique, I have some muscles. I developed them with the help of my swinging an ax around all day in the trees. Running has actually been fun for me, so I've grown some leg muscles too. Whenever I get the chance to mess around in the forest, I always win stealth games. Anyway, I'm the person in town who you'd call the "tall, dark" one. Okay so I'm not that tall, but whatever. I like wearing black above all other color because I think it's the best color there is, so you'll pretty much only see me in that. Ever. It helps me to not stand out too much. Also, I look old for my age. To most people, I look like I'm 16 or something. Because of my appearance, and perhaps because of the way I dress, people tend to be intimidated by me, so I don't have a lot of friends. That doesn't bother me, though, because I don't like being in much of a group unless I have to. I don't get extra kudos or anything. I'm on my own. I walk alone. And that's how it's always been.

In short, I've got long black hair, the weirdest eyes you will ever see (way to go, genetics) and I like wearing dark clothes. Yeah, yeah "story of my life".

Okay so I'm not gonna bore you with the whole "no friends, poor me" crap. I'm not like that. But by telling you about myself so far, you've probably picked up that I don't like negative emotions too much. I hate feeling sad, scared, or depressed. All of those emotions just seem to get in the way for me. I don't like to show how I feel, negative wise. I don't smile too much either. What I do like feeling, however, is resourceful. I hate not being able to do anything, so I taught myself to be resourceful. I'll always try to carry with me stuff I need, but not in a bag. That's just way too obvious. Discreet is my middle name. Letting people know you're on to them makes them suspicious of your motives of...well I don't know. Just makes them feel awkward.

I have to say my one fatal flaw is that I hate dealing with idiots. I have little patience for people who "just don't get it." Something inside me snaps, and I just kind of lose myself in my wanting to knock their lights out. And I do sometimes. I try to walk away quietly, sometimes that works, but most of the time my "negativity" comes forth. I can't take it when I have to explain myself over and over and over. Speaking of that, I thought I should tell you that my name, Aleta , means "winged". It actually makes sense, in a way since I spend a lot of time running. But anyway, other than the stupid of the world, I'm usually pretty patient. I can wait for indefinite periods of time when playing night games in the woods, without permission of course.

Beyond when people talk to me first, I don't say much, but I'm always thinking. That's the mistake people often make about me. Just because I don't talk much, doesn't mean I don't think much. I mean, they've seen me in action. You'd think they'd have put two and two together with the thinking thing. I'm a pretty smart kid.

Another contributing factor to the reason why I don't have many friends is that I don't trust people. No one. Not at all. I have this raving paranoia that is inexplicably incurable. I don't think that it's too bad, though. I mean, what if you came by a convicted criminal who was like 10 or something? What would you say if they came and killed you in your sleep? That's what you get with trust. But I'm not completely heartless. I do have a few people who I know aren't gonna stab me in the back. I mean, it's hard to gain my trust, but I can let someone in. It's just hard for me. I've never had a boyfriend, so I don't know what that's like at all. As far as I know, no one has a crush on me or anything. But then again, I can't read people's minds. I usually keep to myself, and I can take care of myself when I need to, so I don't need any extra emotion or anything. But again: that doesn’t mean I don't have them. Guys, I'm not an emo here. I mean, I've got better stuff to do than sit down with my hair over my face. This has been a self-interview by Aleta Green. You're welcome.

June 4.
The day that marked my entry into the world. The first day I was born was the happiest. I wasn't even old enough to remember the best day of my life. Me, so young, so unaware of the horrors and tortures of the real world. As an infant, memory and past were two things that didn't matter in the slightest. From what I've heard, the second day of my life was spent against my mother, being protected and sheltered with her tears. What had she done? A child? What was she thinking! In her eyes, I was a 'beautiful, purposeful mistake'. All children were. She felt that she had wronged me in bringing me to this world. Can't say I blame her, but of course this little piece of my past has brought up some conflicting emotions. Anger, sadness, acceptance, turmoil, understanding, unbridled pain. Despite the spiraling war within myself when my mother talked to me about this, I forgave her for my existence. Bringing up a child only to have him/her stolen away is probably a lot more painful than finding out you were a 'purposeful accident'.

When I was five, I entered my first day of school. I was nervous, just like any other child. Turns out that that very day changed my life. The girls in my class were already on me fast. But not in a mean way. They stared into my face¯into my eyes. They got lost in them, just as so many after them. They told me that my eyes were weird, but not in a mean way, they were just merely pointing it out. I looked to the rest of my class: none of them had black eyes. I saw brown, green, blue and hazel, but no black. It was then that I decided that being the only one with something was great. Of course it was just that young school girl superiority of being the only one with something cool, but it stuck with me. The rest of my lower school years flew by with almost no problems.

It was my middle school years in which people realized I was a freak. Of course I don't think I'm a freak, but the whole 'don't trust anyone, aaah, paranoia' stuff got in the way. People hated me. They shunned me, ignored me. That's how I learned to never show my emotions, to never show weakness, because the second you did, you just lost. The class bullies taught me that, fast. I could punch, kick, I practiced. I know super basic stuff, but I'm good at it. So of course when they surrounded me, I fought back. I got away, and no one found out. Why nobody knew, I don't know. I'm gonna spare you the details of the 'always picked last, no lab partner, blah, blah, blah' crap. I found that I liked being alone. Doing things on my own helped ease up the pressure on my mom. With me for a daughter, she never had to deal with emotional rants, never had to aid me in any ways with my issues. I dealt with myself through those early years.

Going back to when I was seven, my mother told me another thing about me. She gave me the reason why she named me 'Aleta'. She said, 'The winged can fly away, to a free place, a warm place, a safe place and haven. Those of us stuck to the ground have to be happy with what they've got. You, Aleta, can go anywhere.' If only that were true, mom. She named me Aleta to give her hope that one day I would fly away.

Good try mom.

Just let me know what I need to fix, and I'll jump right on it. :)
Thanks!