Post by mauve morganstern • 3f [kiah] on Oct 14, 2013 2:16:11 GMT -5
Age:17 Gender: female District: 6 Illness: Slightly insane, we have diagnosed her with having an imaginary friend, odd for a 17 year old.
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« appearance »
My hair is long, a long brown curtain that falls down my back. But it is not one colour, many different shades wave in and out of the strands. It was beautiful really. My hair has always been one of my favourite parts of me; it reminds me of my mother, of the woman who used to tuck me into bed late at night. She used to say that the angels were watching over me. I guess they hadn’t been watching over her… My eyes, my eyes are green. Just like my fathers. They are like the colour of jade, and they are usually warm and welcoming. They are eyes the welcome people, not fend people off. They usually change with my mood, darkening when I am angry, or distressed. Becoming lighter when I am happy, or relaxed.
My legs are long, long and thin- maybe they are the reason why I am so clumsy? But just like the rest of me they lack the meat to give me a lean look. I look frail and weak, knobble knees and arms that look like matchsticks. To some people in the Capitol that may almost seem like beauty, but to me it is a clear indicator of my poor life style. A long scar traces my delicate spin, from the top of my neck down to the edge of my tail bone. It was a hideous scar, one that was gruesome and ugly it was from the hospital. They had tried to experiment on me once, and experiment that had not turned out very well and my life had almost been ended, but they saved me and the scar was a constant reminded of the pain that the hospital could cause. But that was before I was moved to this ward, this ward where the nurses cared for me, where I could relax.
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« personlity »
People have told me that I am a girl with spilt personalities, but I don’t think I am. I just have voices in my head, voices that guide me, but sometimes scream at me. They tell me what to do, they whisper in my ear words of wisdom, words of hate, words that may one day send me over the edge for good. Come on Sonja, let’s go for a walk, lets walk into that fire. Don’t be scared, the fire won’t hurt us, not really, it will make us warm, it will welcome us. You won’t feel a thing. That’s right, just a few more steps. Look at those flames, so bright, so welcoming. Good girl. That right head into the flames. I nearly did it you know. Walk right into the flames, cause my mind told me too. I would have walked into those dangerous flames, I would have, but she stopped me, she pulled me away from the voices, pulled me away from death.
Countless times my mind has nearly sent me to my death. It is not like I want to die, it is I just can’t seem to distinguish between the persuasive voices in my mind and my actual thoughts, they all blur together into one, making more confused than ever. I guess I was weak, a weak mind for a weak soul. The voices never seem to go away, but I fight them, when I know the difference, which isn’t that often, but trying is worth something, right?
But outing aside my mental problems I am a rather clumsy girl, always dropping things and getting in peoples way. I try to avoid situations like them, but I can’t usually, it is almost like they are drawn to me. I am prone to error, prone to clumsiness, prone to being a nuisance. But I am not all negative. I am a kind person; I listen to people taking in their words, almost as if I am enduring the situation with them. If someone in the ward has a problem they usually come to talk to me, finding me welcoming to their problems. It makes me feel good, knowing that even though I seem like a lost cause, that by listening to these people I am helping them. They come to me with frowns and turndown lips, they leave with light shoulders and eyes alight. It is one gift that I give to them.
★ ★ ★
« history »
My hand reaches across the rough sheets of the hospital bed, my fingers closing around the fingers of my friend. We have been friends for years, ever since I was a child. She has always been there for me, holding me when I was down, holding me when I thought that today was the day, the day that I take my life, the day I end all of this. But she always told me to hold on. She always told me to look up, to keep looking forward, that life is more. Every time I listen to her, eating her words like a wild animal- after all she has always been correct. I hold the other girls hand tightly, my fingers linking with hers. Her hands were cold- they were always cold, no matter how much I tried to warm them, but there were also comforting, so very familiar. They were my anchor, my anchor in this life.
A gentle smile slips onto my lips as I roll over in the narrow bed, turning to face the girl who lay next to me. She was just as beautiful, just as pure as ever and my smile climbs into my eyes. She smiles back, her lips forming a smooth curve. Her skin was so pale, transcalent almost. But she still looked beautiful, my angel. “Are you okay?” I whisper, my voice soft. I had to speak quietly, under my breathe, or the nurse would come, come and tell me to go to sleep, to stop talking to myself. They didn’t see my friend, well they told me she didn’t exist, that she was just a part of my imagination. But they were liars of course, she was real, she was my friend, forever and always.
She first came to me after a fire burnt down my home, claiming my mother and father as the flames licked down the walls. I never saw them again; I only heard their screams as the fire claimed their lives. I hear them at night sometimes, but then she comes, she comes and it is all okay, I sleep peacefully. She was my true friend. “I’m okay, sleep now Sonja, come on, it is all okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” Her voice in gentle as she reached to close my eye lids with a cheeky smile. I smile back before I am pulled away from the waking hours and into the dreaming world.
I dream of the fire, the one that took almost everything dear to me away. But I also dream on the night I found myself tucked away in the depth of the hospital wing. I never thought I would end up here, I didn’t. But one day I found the peacekeepers dragging me in, me screaming and flailing around. They think I am sane, the all of them do. Sometimes I mumble under my breathe, mumble inaudible words, not even to my best friend, but just to myself, it is calming. In those times the nurses come to my side and gently nudge me towards my pills. Pills. They are always making me take theses pills, theses pills to kill the voices in my head, these pills that kill my mind, that stop my mumblings, which stops my day dreaming. On these pills I am nothing but a robot. I try to avoid them, sometimes tucking the pill under my lounge and spitting the out when no one notices, but sometimes I can avoid taking them, and at those times I am really like a walking robot, my mind trapped in my body. The people in ward, though, seem to understand me, understand what is going on. I like most of them, most of them are like me, most of them are just broken souls like myself.