Penny Ruble ~D8~ (Done)

Have you ever loved someone so much that you couldn't imagine life without them?

Yes, I have.

Have you ever been rejected by the one you hold most dear?

Yes, I have.

Have you ever wanted to die?
Yes, I do.

     I'm not gorgeous, but I'm not ugly. I don't particularly like people, but I'm not antisocial. I'm not a clutz, but I haven't got an ounce of Grace. Nobody really hates me, but nobody really loves me. 



                                                  Penny Ruble
                                                                                                     16
                                                                                                     District 8
                                                                                                      Odair

    I sat in my pajamas on the porch. The air was still warm, and slightly moist from the light rain earlier. The stars were just beginning to shine, and I knew I'd have to go to bed soon. I'll have to get straight to work in the morning. I bet 16 year old girls in the Capitol don't have to work, or wake up early. They don't know how lucky they are. Cloth isn't an easy thing to make. It takes time, and lots of it. So there's no such thing as 'Sleeping in.' My family may be among the wealthier in district 8, but nobody here is rich. Not compared to the upper districts or the Capitol. My whole family lives in this one house; My mother, father, 4 sisters and 6 brothers. I should be 'grateful,' that's what everyone else says at least. Most people's houses are cracking, and falling apart while ours is in good shape. Most people have to dumpster dive for food, while we he enough to fill ourselves with. But why would I be grateful for such an unjust system? 
    "Give thanks in all circumstances" The bible verse repeated in my head. Most of the district was religious; my family included. I don't really have specific doubts in my faith. Though I can't help but wonder why God would let people die of starvation every day. It's not even the worst here in 8. I've heard stories that would give children nightmares about other district's poverty. 
    I decided to go get ready for bed. I always depress myself when I overthink life. I sat in front of the mirror that I had set up in the window sill.I took out my bun, and brushed my hair so that straight copper strands fell softly over my shoulders and cheeks. Then I did something that I usually wouldn't do. I looked closely at myself. I really examined my face. I didn't often get the chance because my mother thought it would make me vain. I didn't care. I looked at all my facial qualities. I had pale skin clear of acne besides a few small pimples on my nose. Lips with very minimal color and a soft rounded jawline. Bland hazel eyes without any depth, and ears that stay a little too close to my head. "At least they don't stick out," I thought. These were all things I knew, but had never really thought of.
    As I continued, I thought about the rest of my body. I'm skinny, everyone was. I'm not quite as hollowed out as most my age though. My family had indeed been blessed. I'm roughly 5'5 and weigh about 115 pounds last time I checked. I had rather long legs, and narrow shoulders and hips, plus a long neck that looked... well frankly it made me look like a turtle. 
     After a moment though, I heard footsteps coming down the hall. I got away from the mirror quickly and leaped into bed. My mother walked in just as the covers fell over my legs. Her bun was tight and pulled at her face. Her lips were thin and nearly as tight as her bun. Sometimes I wonder how on earth we are related. The only resemblance we share is our eyes. The same bland dull eyes. 
"I'm sorry about this morning," she sighed. I was surprised that she was even bringing it up; she didn't usually talk to me about personal problems. I don't think she really cared, it was probably more of a courtesy for her to ask.
     "It's fine," I lied. It had been anything but fine. The boy I had loved- The boy I love rejected me. I was an idiot to think he cared. We've been good friends for a long time. I've known I loved him for 3 years. I had finally worked up the courage to talk to him about it. I came forth with my feelings and he shot me down. I had been so hopeful that I had started to believe that little voice in the back of my head. I got my hopes up, and he let me fall. I shouldn't be mad at him, but I am. 
     "If it's no big deal, quit acting like it is," she scolded spitefully. Why was it so terribly easy to anger her?
      "I'm sorry." I layed back down and rolled my eyes. She turned off the light and left. 

    Was it such a big request that someone would love me? Not the pretend love my mother gives for socially acceptable reasons. Real love. Unconditional love. The only time I had ever felt that was when I became a believer in God. My faith is the only thing that makes me feel like I have any importance. To everyone else I'm common. To God I'm special. 
Maybe I'm just sad enough to convince myself that there's a higher power who loves me, because no one else will.