Leif Ehrenstrom | District 7 | COMPLETE
Oct 21, 2014 9:21:07 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 21, 2014 9:21:07 GMT -5
Name: Leif Ehrenstrom
Age: 16 years old
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 7
Sixteen years ago, to this day, a light from the heavens shone down upon the measly earth that surrounds us (the human population) and created life in the form of a gloriously perfect baby boy who would one day bring fortune to his district - district seven. Wait, who am I kidding? I was born an hour past midnight (hence, it was pitch black - there was no light from the heavens), and I was anything but a 'gloriously perfect' baby boy... No I'm sure there are many horror tales that my mother could tell you, all about my years as a younger lad - they're not too perfect, I can promise you that!
Like all three of my siblings (Andrei, Aniike and Freja), I inherited both my mothers and fathers features and traits, born with shadowy brown eyes that (unfortunately) looked relatively black, and dark sandy brown hair that may need a bit of a trim in the next week or so. Unlike my mans-man father, Konstantin Ehrenstrom, I lack an overtly squared chin, having gained slightly more rounded features from my mother, Deanna - nothing too feminine, but generally softening my features. Although my features were soft, many were hardened visually by scars that adorned my face and the rest of my body, (I told you! I wasn't the best of children), the most visible being the one that ran down my arm from where I'd broken (well I didn't break it, someone else did... but continuing) the bone and it had torn through my skin - not a pretty sight, not at all, quite gruesome actually, that is when you think about it.
Being only 16 years old, I (at current), stand at 5'8", relatively average for a guy my age, but personally I believe that quite short coming from a family of giants (not literally, but you know what I mean). Thankfully, being male I know I won't stop growing for another good 5 years of my life, meaning I'll still have a chance to surpass both my father (who stands at 6'2") and brother Andrei (standing at 6'5") in height; only 5-8 inches to go, thank lord. Time to get to work with my height it seems.
Approximately 17 weeks ago I began working as an apprentice carpenter under my father -something I'll never regret. Work has been rough, tough and strenuous, causing my muscles to slowly develop and my strength to increase as a whole. My skills in carpentry have vastly increased - I can build a table now without having it topple over as soon as a light pressure is placed on it! Well, sort of, I mean, If you placed a cup on it it'd be fine, but... let's not go into putting a book onto it and let's just say that the table began to lean; we have a running joke around the house that it's now (officially) called The Ramp (on legs).
I remember the day that Clive Palmer, the hulking, surly boy - girl, I mean girl, who lived down the road from my family, had once told me that he often felt like she'd been born into the wrong body, as though she wasn't meant to be a boy, but in fact, a girl. I had scoffed at the idea (I'd only been 8 at the time) believing that it was impossible for anyone to ever feel as such, I mean, boys were boys, and girls were girls. Right? Just like how boys were meant to like girls, and vice versa - like my mother and father!
Dear lord, how wrong I'd been - something I only began to realize 3 years later into my life at the mere age of 14, the time I became aware of my semi-attraction to other boys my age. It wasn't something that just suddenly, with a mystical rainbow, showed up on a sign in front of me one day that stated "You're Gay!"; it wasn't an epiphany; it wasn't something someone told me, no, it wasn't. In fact, it wasn't even a realization, it was something that I came to an understanding with as I grew up, noticing signs of physical attraction to other boys and an emotional reaction to their personalities. It occurred when girls didn't cross my mind as much as the cute boy in my class did, or the compliment that Ronny McPherson (who was 2 grades above me) would make me blush.
"I am gay, and that's a fact."
But it isn't a fact that I like to have publically known.
All because of Clive... I'd begun to feel like absolute shit (worth nothing more than cow dung stuck to the bottom of your shoe) one day when I was 14, remembering the way I'd had reacted towards Clive's admission. The guilt had begun to eat away at me, as though I was its food and it wanted to slowly devour me - never could I remove the thoughts of the day from my mind, until I decided to confront him - dear lord, I mean HER, about it.
Apparently, confronting someone about something that you may have possibly offended them for isn’t that good of an idea -who am I kidding!? I definitely offended him, and that's something I'll always regret until my ending days.
Confronting Clive must have been one of the best as well as worst idea's I'd ever concocted; this would be the day I, well in all actuality, she broke my arm. There wasn't much that I remembered, but I do, however, remember messing up grately in my attempt of an apology... It had been going so well, like, I'd been mentally applauding myself for my excellent speech and we'd been having a good ol' laugh about the past, and then... I may have, possibly, called her a 'Girly Boy' (Note to self: not a good nickname for someone who's transgender)- which (in my defence) I hadn't meant to say (it hadn't been in my elaborately planned. After that, all I could really remember was that she wouldn't stop yelling (there had been many profanities) as he attacked me, initially just verbally, and then she moved onto kicks to my ribs, screaming for me "go crawl into a hollow tree and die," and how it wasn't "like anyone would miss" my useless, rude ass. There may have also been a few threats to my family which earned her a good ole' black eye and possibly (hopefully) the inability to reproduce.
"Shouldn't bring my family into our problems."
I'd lain on the ground for a good hour before I could encourage myself to move and get up. My body felt like the embodiment of agony, with my legs like jelly, my ribs like bent sticks and my lungs like overfilled water canteens screaming for "more, more, more!" air, even though they were filled to maximum capacity.
The events of the afternoon were something that I kept to myself, mind a few of the wild animals that I saw roaming the forest. Yep, no one in my family knew that I got beaten up, and that's how it shall remain; I can't let them think I'm so easily brought down; I can't let them think I'm weak; I can't let them find out I'm gay. Instead of opening up with the truth, I told a small fib, "I fell out of a tree" in response to my broken arm, and all was fine.
I don't think I ever recovered from that day, actually, I'm pretty certain I never did. The mere thought of confiding in anyone my darkest secrets terrified me - I could only imagine what they'd say and how they'd react; I couldn't even come into close contact with anyone who wasn't family - anyone who I knew wouldn't hurt me. I came out that day both physically, as well as emotionally scarred. From that moment on, a part of my life closed off to the world, and I don't think it'd ever re-open.
Code: oDair
Age: 16 years old
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 7
Sixteen years ago, to this day, a light from the heavens shone down upon the measly earth that surrounds us (the human population) and created life in the form of a gloriously perfect baby boy who would one day bring fortune to his district - district seven. Wait, who am I kidding? I was born an hour past midnight (hence, it was pitch black - there was no light from the heavens), and I was anything but a 'gloriously perfect' baby boy... No I'm sure there are many horror tales that my mother could tell you, all about my years as a younger lad - they're not too perfect, I can promise you that!
Like all three of my siblings (Andrei, Aniike and Freja), I inherited both my mothers and fathers features and traits, born with shadowy brown eyes that (unfortunately) looked relatively black, and dark sandy brown hair that may need a bit of a trim in the next week or so. Unlike my mans-man father, Konstantin Ehrenstrom, I lack an overtly squared chin, having gained slightly more rounded features from my mother, Deanna - nothing too feminine, but generally softening my features. Although my features were soft, many were hardened visually by scars that adorned my face and the rest of my body, (I told you! I wasn't the best of children), the most visible being the one that ran down my arm from where I'd broken (well I didn't break it, someone else did... but continuing) the bone and it had torn through my skin - not a pretty sight, not at all, quite gruesome actually, that is when you think about it.
Being only 16 years old, I (at current), stand at 5'8", relatively average for a guy my age, but personally I believe that quite short coming from a family of giants (not literally, but you know what I mean). Thankfully, being male I know I won't stop growing for another good 5 years of my life, meaning I'll still have a chance to surpass both my father (who stands at 6'2") and brother Andrei (standing at 6'5") in height; only 5-8 inches to go, thank lord. Time to get to work with my height it seems.
Approximately 17 weeks ago I began working as an apprentice carpenter under my father -something I'll never regret. Work has been rough, tough and strenuous, causing my muscles to slowly develop and my strength to increase as a whole. My skills in carpentry have vastly increased - I can build a table now without having it topple over as soon as a light pressure is placed on it! Well, sort of, I mean, If you placed a cup on it it'd be fine, but... let's not go into putting a book onto it and let's just say that the table began to lean; we have a running joke around the house that it's now (officially) called The Ramp (on legs).
I remember the day that Clive Palmer, the hulking, surly boy - girl, I mean girl, who lived down the road from my family, had once told me that he often felt like she'd been born into the wrong body, as though she wasn't meant to be a boy, but in fact, a girl. I had scoffed at the idea (I'd only been 8 at the time) believing that it was impossible for anyone to ever feel as such, I mean, boys were boys, and girls were girls. Right? Just like how boys were meant to like girls, and vice versa - like my mother and father!
Dear lord, how wrong I'd been - something I only began to realize 3 years later into my life at the mere age of 14, the time I became aware of my semi-attraction to other boys my age. It wasn't something that just suddenly, with a mystical rainbow, showed up on a sign in front of me one day that stated "You're Gay!"; it wasn't an epiphany; it wasn't something someone told me, no, it wasn't. In fact, it wasn't even a realization, it was something that I came to an understanding with as I grew up, noticing signs of physical attraction to other boys and an emotional reaction to their personalities. It occurred when girls didn't cross my mind as much as the cute boy in my class did, or the compliment that Ronny McPherson (who was 2 grades above me) would make me blush.
"I am gay, and that's a fact."
But it isn't a fact that I like to have publically known.
All because of Clive... I'd begun to feel like absolute shit (worth nothing more than cow dung stuck to the bottom of your shoe) one day when I was 14, remembering the way I'd had reacted towards Clive's admission. The guilt had begun to eat away at me, as though I was its food and it wanted to slowly devour me - never could I remove the thoughts of the day from my mind, until I decided to confront him - dear lord, I mean HER, about it.
Apparently, confronting someone about something that you may have possibly offended them for isn’t that good of an idea -who am I kidding!? I definitely offended him, and that's something I'll always regret until my ending days.
Confronting Clive must have been one of the best as well as worst idea's I'd ever concocted; this would be the day I, well in all actuality, she broke my arm. There wasn't much that I remembered, but I do, however, remember messing up grately in my attempt of an apology... It had been going so well, like, I'd been mentally applauding myself for my excellent speech and we'd been having a good ol' laugh about the past, and then... I may have, possibly, called her a 'Girly Boy' (Note to self: not a good nickname for someone who's transgender)- which (in my defence) I hadn't meant to say (it hadn't been in my elaborately planned. After that, all I could really remember was that she wouldn't stop yelling (there had been many profanities) as he attacked me, initially just verbally, and then she moved onto kicks to my ribs, screaming for me "go crawl into a hollow tree and die," and how it wasn't "like anyone would miss" my useless, rude ass. There may have also been a few threats to my family which earned her a good ole' black eye and possibly (hopefully) the inability to reproduce.
"Shouldn't bring my family into our problems."
I'd lain on the ground for a good hour before I could encourage myself to move and get up. My body felt like the embodiment of agony, with my legs like jelly, my ribs like bent sticks and my lungs like overfilled water canteens screaming for "more, more, more!" air, even though they were filled to maximum capacity.
The events of the afternoon were something that I kept to myself, mind a few of the wild animals that I saw roaming the forest. Yep, no one in my family knew that I got beaten up, and that's how it shall remain; I can't let them think I'm so easily brought down; I can't let them think I'm weak; I can't let them find out I'm gay. Instead of opening up with the truth, I told a small fib, "I fell out of a tree" in response to my broken arm, and all was fine.
I don't think I ever recovered from that day, actually, I'm pretty certain I never did. The mere thought of confiding in anyone my darkest secrets terrified me - I could only imagine what they'd say and how they'd react; I couldn't even come into close contact with anyone who wasn't family - anyone who I knew wouldn't hurt me. I came out that day both physically, as well as emotionally scarred. From that moment on, a part of my life closed off to the world, and I don't think it'd ever re-open.
Code: oDair
