Alecto Aveela Vox - District 1 {Finished}

Alecto Aveela Vox - District 1 {Finished} Jun 1, 2012 18:08:46 GMT -5

Post by LynnMarie on Jun 1, 2012 18:08:46 GMT -5

what i've kept with me
& what i've thrown away.

name; alecto aveela vox.
age; seventeen.
district; one.

& where the hell i've ended up
On this glary random day.

appearance; It is truly sad how we as a race put so much stock in being the most beautiful and the best dressed. However, as a staple of our existence, it must be important. To make sure you have the latest fashion and the latest hair color or tatoo, it is a lot of hard work, drama, envy, and even pain. Perhaps this is the reason I love the industry so much, the pain it inflicts, whether it be the pain of jealously or the pain of humiliation, it has a nice air around it. Intriguing.

For my self, I guess you could call me beautiful, I certainly try to be. They say that having a symmetrical face is appealing to the opposite sex. I have a very symmetrical face, therefore scientifically I must be beautiful. That just seems stupid. I would describe my eyes as large, mysterious. I see myself through them, and yet it is the hardest part of my body to describe. They are my eyes, a dark saphire blue color, almond shaped, and entrancing. I use them to study my surroundings, to watch the world as it blurs by in its dismal routines. The rest of my face is oval in shape with sharp check bones and a shapely but womanly jaw line. My nose is long, but my nostrils are not overly large, both perfectly opposite one another. Just below my nose, as in normal human physiology, my lips are pouty. I think that my upper and lower lip are the same thickness, which get quickly chapped if not moisturized every half hour or so.

My hair is ever changing. I goes from white blond to golden to deep black to purple. It is truly at the whim of the latest fashion. I do have a secret however. my hair truly is a pleasing light blond color with even lighter natural highlights. I dread coloring this beauty from my head so very often the different hairstyles you see atop my head are wigs or extensions used to save my real hair. The fashions come and go so often that I cannot submit my hair to that torture. Not like it is not thinning as it is. I dread taking showers now a days in fear of seeing clumps of hair. It is the one thing that will break me down.

My skin is very pale. I don't like to be outside very much. When I do stroll in the family gardens or down the street shopping I always carry an umbrella over my head to save me from sunburn that I easily gain. I have noticed lately a slight yellow color to it. Considering how pale I am, I am not opposed to having some form of color. I am very skinny, and I like to keep it that way. Some people look at my and judge the lack of body fat I have, but I think it is beautiful. They assume that I have an eating disorder, but never say anything. Little do they know that eating is not my problem.

Fashion is very important to me. It is expected that I have the latest in everything and god forbid I wear last weeks color. I don't know why I torture myself, and I truly hate the maintenance that my life forces upon me. Maybe that is the escape I am hoping for one day.

were the things i really cared about
just left along the way

personality; I actually try my hardest not to have a personality. I try to not care. I try to remain numb. I try to escape the screwed up world and everything in it. I guess this is the point that I talk about my savior, my best friend, my eternal lover. Her name is Mama Morphling. It is not important now the reason why I fell into the loving arms of Mama, but it was a great day when the switch was flipped. I couldn't let it go. It gave me everything I asked for and asked for nothing in return. It gave me the strength to get out of bed, the courage to go outside and live a sort of life. I used to hate everything, and now I am only slight disgusted by everything.

I guess you can say that I am over opinionated. I don't see it that way. I see it as seeing the world with realistic eyes and trying to make everyone else see how stupid they are. Whatever. I'm immune to what people say about me. I'm sure names have been thrown in my direction. I say let it be.

Heartless? Yes, I just about am. The Hunger Games have never bothered me much. I have never worried about them. I know that a career would step up and volunteer even if my name did get called. I have no interest in fighting for my life. I wouldn't be entirely sure that I would try to hard to save it honestly. The blood and gore of the games actually sparks my interest. The psychology of fighting for ones life, fighting for the future. It is something that I just do not understand and cannot relate. Perhaps I am a mutant of sorts.

My negativity is very real. I see the world in black and white. There is no room for wishful thinking, hope, dreams, whatever. What you have is what you get or what you are given. I guess I take the world and everything in it for granted. I have the perfect life defined by the standards of many. I never want for anything and am never denied anything. I have no concept of not having anything and living poor. I don't think I would care even if I did live that way. It goes back to life in black and white, it is what it is.

You can see that I am very honest. I enjoy telling people the truth, especially if they don't want to hear the truth. The look on their faces is very encouraging. I do not say these things to be mean, on the contrary, I mean it to help them. I just sincerely enjoy studying reactions and the way people think.

for being too pent up & proud
i woke up way too late.

history; If I was to ever write a book about my life, it probably would not sell very well. People do not like to hear little rich girls complain about their lives after they are given everything they ever asked for. Through my eyes though, my story is very real, and like many other things, I could careless about what people say about me.

I guess I'll start at the beginning. I was born second child and first daughter to a very wealthy family in District 1. My older brother, Agent trained since a small child for the Games, but never became good enough to volunteer, nor was he chosen fairly. I guess I always thought that he was a waste of time. After he lost his last chance, he basically realized he had nothing else to do and spent his time sitting in the house, getting fat. What a waste.

My mother and father were high society people, the kind of people that traveled often to the capital and met with the President. My father came from an old family who had gained wealth in diamonds years before his birth. The old money continued to hold out as neither of my parents worked, but continued to collect. I guess they are a waste as well. They are like parasites living off my ancestors hard work and infrastructure. Then again I guess I can be called the same considering I am provided for from the same bank account.

My family was never one for family game night or pasta dinners on sundays. I was left on my own at a young age. Of course "on my own" means with four butlers and a nanny as my beckoning whisper. I was sent to school where I quickly found that I was surrounded by idiots stuck in the bodies of small children. As we grew, not much changed. I guess I was always cynical, born that way.

My mother and father split up when I was 13. The change did not bother me in the least. I remained living with my father who provided for me, my new step mother, and my new step brother. He was the same age as me, and a real geek. I enjoy playing with him. He hates hearing the truth yet walks blindly into my tricks everytime. The game never gets old.

I know you are wondering about the good part in the story, the day Mama Morphling came into my life. It was around the time of my sixteenth birthday when I truly decided that I did not like life, I did not like the people in my life, and I did not like the world I was forced to live in. It was so easy for me to just open the doors to my balcony, step over the railing, and fly away. Of course, the ground got in the way, something I neglected in my calculations. My leg was badly broken, and even though I welcomed the pain as a new feeling in the world that had become so dead, my father paid the doctor's to pump me up with painkillers. Dangerous game they were playing. For the first time I felt like I was free from the cage of my mind. The haze cleared and I saw the world clearly for what it was in black and white. Even after it was no longer necessary for the morphling to take my pain away, it took away a different pain that was centralized in my brain.

lyrics: evaporated - ben folds