Ava Dillard 2 done

"Why does God have bad things happen to good people?"

My first instinct would to say there is no God but I have been taught different. My second would be to say there are no good people. It would be safe to say considering I haven't met a good person in my whole sixteen years of living. Sixteen years are short but I don't think Ma has met a good person either and she's well into her fifties. But I hold my tounge because I would shatter the delicate balance of my little brothers thoughts. I don't say anything because I am afraid to say I didn't know. I didn't know the answer. Or worse, because I didn't like the answer.

Perfection was something that every one I have ever met was striving for. It was a human trait everyone had in their hearts that no one has ever met. Striving for perfection can make a man go mad. Being forced to be perfect made a man become weak and haunted with the thoughts of never being good enough for anyone. How could you be good enough for God if you weren't perfect enough for your own father?

Worry is a misuse of your imagination. I feel that many people, including myself, use their imagination in the wrong way. I find myself brooding more often than I should and over thinking kills the mind and slowly kills you. Who would want to talk to a girl who can't even hurt a hologram without saying a prayer to someone she doesn't know if she even believe in? I feel I lack the most quintessential things of life. Strength and Heartlessness. If you have that then you can survive but for the unlucky people who don't are already dead. Caring is weakness because you always are going to hurt.

I am trapped in a cage. My father thinks it’s just a phase, and he told himself that until he made himself believe it. No offspring of his would be a failure, afraid of a sword and a quitter. My father worked hard to be the best. And I almost believed he was the best. If you look back at his life it seemed like something any boy would dream of living. But somehow in his quest to be perfect, God wrote something in his story that ruined it for him. Why did it always have to be me? ”How could you be bad at the one thing that you need to be good at?” All I want to say is that it’s because perfection isn’t me. I was a failure in the eyes of the person I want to impress the most. I will never live that feeling down when he looks at me with disappointment.

Fighting. Everyone was a fighter. That was the only way people could think of to lift themselves up out of the dirt. It seems that wherever I go, everyone is always fighting about something. Every district had a purpose just like everything in the world. The district I was born to be a part of obviously didn’t seem to fit my purpose. I am not exactly sure what I could possibly be good at, but I knew it wasn’t fighting. My baby brother Noah is a good fighter. The only reason my father had another child was because I wasn’t fitting his image. Noah knows it and stands up for me. But how long will it be before I loose the only person in my family who believe in me.

Father just can’t accept that maybe I wasn’t going to be the career child everyone strived to be and he was. My first time in the training center, I broke my nose the first five minutes in and I cried in the last stall of the ladies room until my mother carried me out. After that my father forced me to go. I would beg not to go that I would just make a fool out of myself. He never would listen and still never does. I just stopped going now. I lie at the dinner table and say I am getting better. Sometimes I even hurt myself to make it look like I was training. I have scars, bruises, and buns to prove it. The only one who knows that I do this is my brother. The only way he found out was when he found me with a blade covered in blood. I cried and told him to leave but his fear made me stop and look at myself. I was a mess. A long cut on my left forearm was leaking blood. How can I hurt myself but not others? Noah worries about me. I can tell in his eyes. He isn’t heartless. And that’s his weakness. I am afraid when the time comes he will never use his skills to protect himself. Killing is something that has to be programmed into you. I don’t want the only person I love to become a monster. I own Noah my life.

”You can’t be a failure unless you give up.” Mothers voice rings in my ear whenever I have the urge to just give in and walk away. I whisper back to her that I was born a failure. I used to smile when people told me I looked like my father. Red hair that layed on my back in straight clumps. A full face and brown eyes like mine made me look like a female version of my father. I know he is embarrassed when people tell him I look like him. I would be embarrassed as well. Who would want someone like me to resemble them in any way? Freckles on my face are the only thing that sets me aside from him. Noah and I have an abundant number of freckles on our bodies.

People have learned not to tell my father about me anymore. He used to smile weakly but now he flinches when my name is said. The feeling that overcomes you when someone you love doesn’t love you back makes you feel worthless. Who would ever love a insecure girl would can’t do anything right? If a father can’t love their child, no one will love them. I ask myself why would this happen to me? Why does everything bad happen to me?

"Because if bad things didn't happen we would be in heaven." I came to the conclusion after minutes of staring into the sky that it was true. Perfection isn't real. Only flaws were real. Heaven was perfection. We lived in no heaven. We lived in hell.