Neima Tademy (District 1) DONE

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Call me whatever you want, i'm as strong as I believe.


Welcome to Panem. The land of the poor, and the greedy. And then, theres the inbetween. Those who aren't poor or greedy. People like me. We aren't careers, we don't bet, we simply live. We aren't normal but we aren't insane.

Me? I'm Neima. 17 years of age (of course, only by a couple days), wavy, tousled, persian indigo hair that drops down to my ankles. Well, it didn't in that picture. But, on my 17th birthday it was surgically legthened, along with a new haircut. My eyes I got done up as a gift ages ago, colored like the sky at night. Black-ish blue, with tiny, elegant glowing, marveling sparks just burning light around the edges of my pupil. I can't say I'm exactly your definition of beautiful, though. My back is covered in dark, painful burns, scarring me like my past, and my hair can never seem to stay straight for too long.
Usually, my daily attire consists of jackets and jeans, or plain dresses. I'm not much to dress myself up in silly, doll-like pastel-colored clothing like some sort of bubbly freak. That's not me. I'm not one of them.



I'm not a Idealist. I'm all out realist, and thats all. I refuse to see this all like some joke. Just because District 1 is richer than the rest, it doesn't make us any better then the rest of them. Yeah, I'm a fighter, but I'm still a weeper. At hard times, I cry, bawling my eyes out for the world to see. I don't even care, and my utter pity and self-absorbance makes me bitter and dull to the world. Even letting go of my growing pride at that moment is easier than cutting cake. Nothings easier at that point.

Besides my tear-eyed moments, i'm strong. I refuse to give up unless the worse has strutted up to me with a gun ready to shoot whenever it pleases. I'll fight for what I believe on, but i'm never stupid enough to keep fighting for a worthless trend. If you're going to do something meaningful, do it right or don't do it at all. That's my motto.

I'm not the best leader. If you gave me a flock of birds and told me to command them to send a message, i'd probably just send the message myself. I'm more of an independent person, and I only ever talk to those I trust. To those who dare to break my trust, fuck off. I'm not the type to deal with that.

I remember back when I was a kid, and there was no need to worry about the state of Panem. I loved our huge house, full of nice furniture and people, the food rich in taste, and the clothing made with plenty of fabric to fit our well fed bodies. The Capitol seemed like a huge, glittering palace full of princesses and princes, with adventure, glamor and glory. But now I know better. As I said, Realism, not Idealism. We'd all love for the world to be of our imaginations, but thats not what it is, is it?

I was born to Whim and Haper Tademy. My brother, Jeremy, and me used to run through the mansion. We hated each other, we hated each other to death. We used to wrestle each other when no one was looking, punching and biting until someone bled. It was never pleasant. Never.
And one day, we were out on the beach. Jeremy had began to punch me in the guts for no reason. In a whip of anger, burning anger, I pushed him into the water. Held him down in it until he screamed for pity. At that age, I had no idea what I was doing, until it was too late. Right as I was about to pull him out, Jeremy suddenly fell faint. My eyes went wide, and I screamed, but no one came to help. Jeremy had fallen into the water and drowned. I told my parents I had no idea where he went. To this day, they think he had run away and gotten captured by Capital peacekeepers. Of course, I can never tell them what I did.
Besides that, I had a normal for District 1. None of us ever worked. We sat around mingling and discussing the latest news, talking about which Careers had the best chance of winning or the latest fashion. We never once thought that maybe, maybe the Capitol was all one huge, disgusting scam. That we along with the rest of Panem were being ripped off, abused, some starving.


Let the games begin.



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