save me from the n[o]thing i've become

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save me from the n[o]thing i've become Mar 16, 2015 15:03:51 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2015 15:03:51 GMT -5

The sixty ninth annual hunger games.

It's hard to think, teenagers had been sent to die sixty nine times. Some of them only children. The district ten girl tribute, Bree Fawn, was only a year younger than me, and already dead. It could have been me, I could be dead right now. Death is scary, and I'm not going to pretend the thought doesn't petrify me. It's the only thing in this world truly unknown, and the only way to know is to say goodbye to everything, forever. Death is always the ultimate threat. And even scarier, death is inevitable.

I sit down in the District Square, looking up at the screen. Weapons flying. Tributes running. Teenagers, literally fighting for their lives, right in front of civilization's eyes. But I'm a thirteen year old girl, what can I do? Milk a cow? Chop some lamb meat? That's not going to stop the Capitol.

I flinch when I see a mutant injured on the screen, but I can't look away, I can't look away. I let my hate for the Panem government grow, grow. But not only that, it makes me at least a little happier with my life to know I am not one of them. One of the tributes.

That's a selfish thing to think, Jessamine. Why are you so selfish?

But I can't help what I think. So instead I let the voices in my head rage on, until they are overwhelming and coming out as tears.

Don't cry, Jessamine. You look weak.

I can't help that I'm crying. People dying, me watching so I feel better about myself. So selfish, the opposite of what I want to be. I don't want to go back and help my mother milk the goats, even if it's the right thing to do. I want to sit here until someone wraps me in their arms and tells me I'm not the abomination I think I am.

jessamine bryan • 13 • district 10

Last Edit: Mar 16, 2015 23:33:25 GMT -5 by Deleted

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save me from the n[o]thing i've become Mar 16, 2015 21:03:31 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on Mar 16, 2015 21:03:31 GMT -5

[attr="class","itsabox2"]

[learning to let go]

I walk in silence, the only thing to be heard is my muted steps mingled with the sound of crunching grass. I hug my body tightly, protecting it from the the bitter winds which swept over the district. Though the snow had melted, though the grass was green, the winds was still harsh, bitting at exposed skin, the skies filled with angry looking clouds. my feet were carrying me away from my home and towards the district center, the place that was filled with people who lived in town, people who could afford not to labour day and night out in the field, tending to the animals, or caring for their farms. In a small way I was jealous of these people, people who didn't really know the true reality of their home, but in another I could only feel sorry for them, sheltered away from the true cruelty, true face of this place that we called home.

It wasn't until the drought that I really understood how cruel this world could be. It was when the drought took away so much from me that I really understood how unforgiving, how harsh life was. A lump rises in my throat, my cheeks heating up as I fight the urge to cry. I had lost someone so important to me because of that- no I had lost many, but one of them was greater than the rest because he had been my friend, he had been the one to allow me and milo to meet, to bond to become to much more than just two strangers and now this bridge was gone, burnt up by the suns harsh rays.

Tiger.

Tier had been one of the first animals I had ever saved and he had been the one that I was closest too, our bond was deeper then me just being his carer, he was my friend and he loved me just as much as I loved him thats why it hurt so much to see him struggle with the heat. to see him die in my arms, his small body fighting on for my sake until I told him that it was okay, that it was okay for him to let go, to find peace, to hurt no longer.

Suddenly I am walking no longer, as I try to control my emotions, shaving a hand into my mouth, stopping me fro crying. It had almost been a year since then... and still, my emotions were to raw.

Taking a deep breath I urge myself to walk on, my feet no longer walking on grass but cement as the city grew closer and closer. I could smell it now. I could smell the bakeries, and the small dinners, making my stomach growl. I had had no plan in place today, only to get out of the house, to escape my home for a few hours. Usually I wouldn't come to the city during this period of time, but today I had, my mind trying to avoid the obvious reason as to why the city was buzzing, people watching the big screens anxiously as we watched the last remaining tribute from ten, fight his way through three other tributes. His leg was missing- as was his ally's and he looked so tired- i couldn't do it. I couldn't watch as each tribute slammed their bloody weapon into each other, all intentions to kill. I couldnt watch as they screamed, as pain erupted throughout their limbs, consuming them.

looking away my eyes fall onto a young girl, tears rolling down her cheeks, her eyes unable to rip themselves away fro the bloody mess displayed on the big screens. I feel my heart ached for the girl, my feet walking to her side before I can stop them. I am standing in front of her now, my frail body blocking the view of the screen, breaking their contact. I squat down in front of her, my hand reach out to wipe away the tears.

""Dont cry. It hurts, its scary, but don't waste your tears, don't cry for him, for them, okay? Dont cry because they dont deserve your tears. Dont cry because that shows how weak you are, shows how pathetic you are. No one but you deserve your tears." Thats what my mother once said to me as I cried, as I cried because someone I loved was gone. I think she was wrong." My dark eyes study the girls, as I drop my hand to my side. "I think someone should be able to cry for others, I think everyone needs someone to cry for them"

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Last Edit: Mar 16, 2015 21:05:32 GMT -5 by k!ah

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save me from the n[o]thing i've become Mar 16, 2015 23:31:49 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2015 23:31:49 GMT -5

I hold my face in my small, tanned hands, water dripping down the sides. It's so cold I think the tears will freeze mid-falling, but they warm up my little round face until I whip them off. While wiping them away and brushing greasy strands of brown hair out of my face, I turn my head to the right and observe the surroundings. Soon I see a girl, walking up to the screen. The dark brown waves of her hair cascade down her shoulders, and the voices immediately feed into my jealousy.

I force them away, and instead watch the seemingly teenaged girl's movements. I analyze her as she turns away from the screen, which only makes me feel worse. I'm the only one who wants to look, the only one who actually feels better when I see such unfortunate souls. It's not that I want them to be in the situation they're in, but my situation is a little better. It makes me feel happy, even the thought that someone might want to be in my ripped up, leathery, moccasin-like shoes.

But soon I panic when I see the girl coming towards me, and I unsuccessfully attempt to quit shedding tears from my eyes. I fail, per usual. My chest is still heaving and I can only imagine how pitiful and ugly I look as she starts talking. I don't know why she wants to talk to me, because we have never met. I drown her out, but I can still hear enough that she's insulting me.

"Don't cry because that shows how weak you are, shows how pathetic you are." Even though her words echo my thoughts, I still despise hearing them out loud, especially by someone I have never seen in my life. I am tempted to spit, "What do you want with me?" but I don't, because I can tell that she isn't finished.

I stop in my tracks when she says, "I think everyone needs someone to cry for them." At least now I know she isn't insulting me, she's trying to comfort me, but she didn't even seem to understand the situation. She didn't know that I wasn't crying for the tributes, I really was crying for myself, because I thought I was immature and selfish.

Still, I couldn't help that I was curious about her. Maybe she was like me, too mad at herself to think straight. Theonly way to know for sure was to ask, so instead of even introducing myself, I went ahead and asked, "Why have you been upset?"

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save me from the n[o]thing i've become Mar 17, 2015 8:29:21 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on Mar 17, 2015 8:29:21 GMT -5

[attr="class","itsabox2"]

[learning to let go]

Thats right. Mother was wrong, everyone needed someone to cry for them because sometimes, sometimes they wont cry for themselves. Because thats what I did. Mother wasn't going to cry, when father left she lost herself, her body was just an empty shell, her soul no where to be seen to I had cried or the both of them. I had cried for father and I had cried for mother because what else was I supposed to do? I was a child with no father, no mother... I was on my own so I cried, I hugged my mother and cried into her empty body, my arms wrapping around he frail figure. Everyone deserves someone to cry for them. A smile slips onto my lips as I stare into the girls eyes.

Tucking some of my long hair behind my ear I allow my hands to fall onto my thighs, the girls face changing from something like rage to understanding to something I couldn't quite put my finger on. "Why, have you been upset?" The words strike me hard, but it wasn't like I wasn't expecting them, so instead of avoiding her question I take a seat in front of her, crossing my legs casually. I take a moment, thinking about her question hard. This girl could be no older than thirteen, fourteen, would it be wrong of me to tell her about death, to tell her about heart ache and suffering?

The sound of a muted cry echoes behind me followed by a scream and scorching flesh. I turn to see the district 10 boy, Jordan engulfed in flames, his body burning, his flesh melting. But she already knew, she already can see the harshness of this world. Sighing I turn back to the girl, the boys screams fading as he slowly lost the battle to hold onto life. My heart aches and every-time I close my eyes I can see his burning flesh, his melting skin. She can know.

"Do you remember the drought? The one that scorched our home, that killed many animals, many crops and many of the people too?" As if anyone could forget the unbearable heat, the deathly sun rays. It was not something someone would want to remember, but also something that was almost impossible to forget. "Well during the drought I lost a lot. I lost many of my cows and sheep- animals that I have all saved from cruel hands, or from starvation. But there was one cow, one who I have had since he was just a calf. I saved him from a fire, and I watched him grow and become something amazing and during that drought I lost him. He died in my arms, his small body so frail, so broken..." my voice trails off and I look off into the distance, once again the image of his uneven breathing, his twitching pelt filling my mind. I didn't want to remember, I didn't want to remember him like this... "And I cried. I cried for him, I cried for myself, but most of all it was for him."

Blinking I bring my eyes back to the girls, a sad smile painting my lips. "It might sound like a silly story- right? Crying over a cow? But to me he was my best friend, he helped me build friendships with people that will mean more to me than anything else in this world."

And I cried and cried and cried for him. And I will still cry for him and everything else I lost.

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save me from the n[o]thing i've become Mar 17, 2015 11:05:47 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Mar 17, 2015 11:05:47 GMT -5

I am patient for a reply, asking about someone's struggles is never an easy question. I wait, wait while our last remaining tribute burns. All hope of winning this year is lost, and a stabbing voice in the back of my head reminds me there is nothing I can do about it. Maybe someday, I think, but not now.

My rebellious thoughts are shut out when the girl, now sitting in front of me, starts speaking. When she mentions the drought I wince remembering, but I silently let her finish. I listen closely as she mourns over a lost friend, but I'm still shocked that she was heartbroken over a cow.

One of the many rules I have made for myself is this: Never fall in love with an animal. In my family, at least, animals are never there to stay. Once I befriended a little pig, but when it came time to butcher him, I was the one to do it. Selling the pork of that pig in the marketplace is the event that made me so raw and heartless. Not to mention if we don't kill the animal, like a milking cow, we sell it the second they are less productive.

But I feel bad for the girl as she explains how the cow made her friendships and how it died in her arms. I hate the idea of losing something you love, so I suppose that's why I only love my parents anymore, and some days, I barely love them. Instead of showing her sympathy, which I'm doubtful will help, instead I ask, "What's your name?" I know it's not a good idea to trust strangers, but she doesn't really feel like a stranger. She's already told me about one of her biggest life struggles and her voice makes me want to trust her. "I'm Jessamine."

I felt like a five year old, introducing myself like that, but I didn't want to sound like a business man and scare her off. Instead I waited, again silently, until she decided whether or not to tell me her name.