Basil Edwards (District 9) REDO! Finished!

My appearance is what many people would call “pretty”, but all I see is me, nothing more or less than that. I have long wavy/curly dark brown/chestnut hair that I usually part right down the middle. My mother cuts it so that some strands near the front are shorter than in the back, layers as she calls it, so a ponytail or braid is impossible for me. My skin is pale, probably because of all of the time I spend inside the Capitol beauty product factory. Light hardly ever touches my skin, but if it does, I neither tan nor burn, cutting the possibility of golden skin out of the picture. My eyes are green/blue/grey, changing nearly every day. My right eye, though, is weaker and cannot see as clearly as my left, but my family cannot afford glasses for me, so I’ll just have to settle with reading with one eye closed. My lips are a pinkish color, and are thick, but not too thick. I weigh 112 pounds, which is about average for girls my age in my part of the district, and I am 5’4 ½” tall. I’m pretty skinny, but not like a toothpick, and short but not an elf.
I am usually found wearing my factory uniform, which is really just a pair of black overalls over a grey T-shirt, with black shoes that blister my feet and black gloves that are way too big for my delicate hands. On the one occasion a year which I am allowed off work , The Hunger Games, I prefer to toss my work clothes and put on a pair of boot cut jeans, a T-shirt, and my favorite fawn brown fake leather jacket my dad got me for my birthday. I always lounge around in my fake leather boots that match my jacket, which are nearly worn through from walking around in them so much. My fingernails are little stubs from me chewing on them out of nervousness, a habit which I really need to break.

One of the main things that you will notice about me is that I am a girl who doesn’t see herself for who she really is. I’m not anorexic or suicidal or anything, but I just don’t see what other people do. I am kind of judgmental of my flaws, and my thoughts always pass over my good qualities. No matter how much people complement me, I just don’t see it! I don’t see me as pretty, I just see me. I don’t understand what there is about me to be grateful for, all I can ever see about me is my flaws. Thankfully, the way I see other people is completely opposite from the way I see myself. In other words, I only see the good things in people. I guess I just don’t respect myself like I do other people.
My life can be a bit nerve-racking, so I am always nervous and jumpy. Well, not always, but more so whenever my mind starts to get worked up. I think about things like what would happen to my family if something happened to me, or what if the Peace-Keepers found out that I had once gone into the forest with my friend Hanna, who was caught once and beaten publically, even though she was only 14. She still has the marks. I am always worried about my family’s economic situation, even though I think I should be too young to think about these things. But sadly, the hardships and worries of life make me constantly uneasy, and I am unable to find rest.
I can be very impulsive to do things, no matter if it is talking, thinking, or doing an action. I don’t think this trait of mine is all that bad. I mean, don’t most of the great things in life come from taking risks? Yet again, so do most of the bad. Sometimes this makes me say things I don’t really mean, or say things I meant but wasn’t supposed to say. I have gotten in a lot of trouble from my impulsiveness, but it is just a quality about me that I couldn’t change for the life of me. I just hope that I can learn to control it in the important situations.
I over all try to be a nice person, by forgiving others, not seeking revenge, always being nice to the loners (I have a soft spot for people who are different), etc. However, sometimes my impulsiveness can cause me to do bad things that I’ll regret later on. My personality is consistent, yet changing at the same time. It is really hard to explain; Even I don’t understand it fully.

My birthday is September 16, and I was born into a very loving home. I was the only surviving child (my mom’s 1st daughter died before she was 2) at the time, so I was a bit spoiled. Early on, my life was nothing but butterflies and flowers. My mom Charlotte, who is now 40, used to stay home with me, all to myself, and we played games, she taught me how to read early on, and life was great. My dad, Brent, who is also 40, had weekends off of work, weekends that were filled with fun and memories of just me and my mommy and daddy. Then came my little brother, Simon who is 11 now, and I absolutely hated him when he was born. I was about 4 when he was born, and I can still remember the feelings of anger that I felt that day. Thankfully, they soon melted away, and I enjoyed having a little brother to play with.
I didn’t learn about the Hunger Games until I was around 6 years old, the first time I can remember actually going to the Reapings. I had been before, but I never really paid attention to anything that was going on. What probably made me watch this time was that Hanna, my best friend since we met when we were 3 (our moms were good friends), was very upset. I remember asking her what was wrong, and she told me that her older sister, Alicia who was 13, was picked at the Reapings and was going to be in the Hunger Games. I didn’t say anything else, but I asked my mom about it when we got home, and she told me everything. All of my fantasizing about the perfect life I had was gone in a flash. Hanna’s sister died in the Bloodbath.
By the time I was 14, my life had pretty much steadied out. I had a good group of friends, Hanna included, made good grades, got along well with everyone, stayed out of trouble, and pretty much had a good life. But then, my dad had an accident at the factory. His entire right arm was completely disfigured, and it would be impossible for him to ever regain use of it again. Because he had an important job in the factory, he made enough money to support us all, but now he was out of work for good, and my mom had to get a job at a nearby soap factory. It didn’t matter if she worked overtime and never slept, she still couldn’t get enough money to feed me and Simon and pay Dad’s hospital bills, so I decided to step in. Yes, I dropped out of school, dropped out of my life, actually, to work in a soap factory. Great. At least we are able to scrape by, and Dad’s bills are almost paid off. Then, maybe I can go back to school and work part-time. Maybe.

This was a redo of an already existing character, so if you could just replace this bio with the old one, I would really appreciate it! Thanks!