mabel casey : d2 : fin

mabel casey : d2 : fin Feb 23, 2015 14:15:31 GMT -5

Post by goat on Feb 23, 2015 14:15:31 GMT -5

mabel acacia casey
16
district 2

What are you looking at? Me? That's right bud, you better look away. I get it that I'm stunning and all, but staring is impolite! Ugh, goodbye.

People always stare at me, unfortunately. I guess that means I'm pretty? I know I just called myself stunning, but I only say that in front of the rude people who look me up and down. They have to think that I'm confident, that their rude staring doesn't bother me. You can't show weakness in front of people, not ever. I hold my chin up and flash a smile and people think I have it all together.

Really, I'm not confident. I'm actually a liar. I lie about everything. I make up cool stories that have never happened to me, but I say they have, so people get all interested and stuff. I want people to like me. Like, reeeeeally like me. I want a whole bunch of friends! But for now, the closest people I can consider friends are the people that group around me when I have another cool story to tell.

I'm a coward. Total, complete baby. I'm scared of everything, even my own shadow. Slamming doors, loud voices, all of it just makes the hairs on my arm stand up. I'm good at staying calm though, so nobody's ever seen me panic. If there's one good thing about me, it's the ability to keep things physically in check. Sure, I can't keep my lying in check, but that's emotional. Or mental. I can keep groups and people in check, though.

Like I said earlier, people like to stare. Their piercing eyes bear right through my dewy dark skin. I just glare at them with my small brown eyes. My eyelashes lay like curtains, that I wish I could just pull over my eyes sometimes. My nose is round, sort of flat, while my big lips lay right underneath. I get acne sometimes, over my nose and chest. Yes, chest acne is a thing. Please don't remind me of it.

My limbs are like twigs, hanging down from my torso. My shoulderblades, ribs, and hips jut out like they're trying to break free of my skin. I've also got an ugly red birthmark, tracing from my left hip down to almost my knee. I hate it. Hate, hate, hate it. I cover it with long pants, even when it's hot out. Since I always wear pants, I can typically also be found in tank tops.

I'm a career, born into a family of careers. My mom was a career, and so was my dad, and so were my two older brothers. My parents are pretty tough and strict. I guess that's how their parents raised them. From the minute I was born, it was like I was on a schedule. A list of rules had been metaphorically written and glued onto my bedroom wall. Don't do this, don't do that. For a little kid forbidden to make mistakes, it was stressful.

I made mistakes, a lot of them. I got into trouble a lot at school. Instead of telling my parents, I would lie and say nothing happened, or say it was the other kid's fault. My parents believed me, cause I was "such a good little rule follower", and nothing more would happen. That's how the whole compulsive liar thing started. I started lying about things that wouldn't even get me into trouble.

I only got caught lying once by this girl in training. I was telling a story about something outrageous that happened in school, when she had the nerve to say, "That never happened! I was there!" Can you believe that? I ended up threatening her with a training knife and she left me alone. But since that happened, I'm worried more and more people are going to catch on that I'm a total fake.

I never got along much with my brothers. They were always out training, but now that they're older we get to spend more time together. They know I'm a fake. They think I'm stupid for it. They don't understand that I just want people to like me. The real me is boring. People only like me cause I'm pretty and tell good stories. I'd rather it be like that than ending up alone.