drink up, baby doll; lei

maia elissselyn esmérald

Drink up, baby doll
Are you in or are you out?
Leave your things behind
'Cause it's all going off without you
Excuse me too busy you're writing your tragedy

You have come to the point of two a.m. curfews and no rest, though your body is still in bed, the comfort of sleep in exchange – and not even voluntarily – of wayward thoughts. Your mind is a cavern, or a blank paper, floating off to what happened last night or four years ago, or what would happen two years from today. It never rests – in fact, you never rest, and there have been numerous almost-emergencies, times when there’s far too much pills (one for sleep, one for your muscle ache, one for your migraines – you’ve got one for everything; you’re like a walking pharmacy for adolescence in denial) dumped down your throat that you’ve discovered a brand new hobby in the dead of the night: bulimia. You, the eternal optimist that you are, think of it as your midnight adventures, your daring escapades in the safe walls of your bedroom, where ‘uncivil conduct’ will be rewarded with the ‘last gulp of moonshine, I swear’ and not with the threat of sirens blaring down the street, demanding you to ‘give up the illegals or do community work down the Districts.’

[/color] In a complete contradiction to your garish outfits and unsettling elfin face, the lands down there actually do fancy you, just not quite enough for you to get caught and that bold red mark on your permanent record that requires a bit of green to take off (but you hated it when Father gives you that look that says, “you’ve made me waste my money on you again.” This wasn’t the first and sure won’t be the last, but you’ve always been the good girl, haven’t you? You do good in class, you go out of your house, make friends and have a living, you aren’t pregnant and you bet on all the right tributes. Really, what more do they want?)

Time check on yourself: you’ve gone from bulimia to optimism to money. Don’t you just love your train of thought?[/color] You might be surrounded by flashing lights and the false promise of security, but you could travel Panem with just a minute in your mind.

It is eight o’clock and you’re dressed and ready for a night with your friends – wait, you didn’t forget the moonshine didn’t you? Good girl! You’ve always been responsible, perhaps always eager to please, but you never found anything wrong with that. (Actually, the doctors did, and so did your parents when you ended up in the floor and you’ve been officially ‘overworked, in extreme fatigue, and needed an extended time to rest,’ which hinted you either give it your all or give it all up – who are we kidding, you’ll never give it up! Popping pills, irritating migraines it is!)

Now you know how it’s going to be, everyone’s going to be there and it’s the same set of people but somehow conversations move along faster than the speeding cars and the latest trends. You remember knocking and now you’re flanked between Vail and July, and in the middle of who’s dated who and who wore what?! your searching eyes – they never, ever do rest, do they? –[/color] found a lonely little doll, in the corner and looking more pissed than ever. The speakers are blaring the latest hit, and it’s no wonder why, but you’ve always hated a frowning face so you dragged yourself over, moonshine and all. You’re a bit tipsy but hey, what else would you be fun for?

“So,” you say, all smiles and eyes (you hope that are) sparkling as you flop down beside Nixie, little Nix who you always thought was a walking irony with her cotton-candy hair and dagger-like eyes.[/color] You liked her anyway, because she was nice, at least you think so,[/color] but when the air drops down the minute you sit, you cross your fingers – at least she won’t literally bite. You’ve all heard it all, how she sees colors with every sound. You’re not quite sure with how it works but if it’s anything like your radioactive mind, then you crossed your fingers twice, hoping no one had rock in the playlist. “You look like you could use a drink. Want some? It’s good stuff,” you grin, all beams (that it’s quite funny you’ll wake up hours late with the exact opposite and a string of sailor’s words). “You’ll love it.”[/color][/justify][/blockquote]

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