Tomas Facioli | D6 | FIN
Jun 15, 2015 5:47:11 GMT -5
Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Jun 15, 2015 5:47:11 GMT -5
Tomas Facioli
District 6 | Male | 17
Odair
Helping people has been a part of my daily routine, since forever. I can remember helping my mum as a little kid, helping her cook the meals, clean. There is literally nothing that I won’t help anyone with. That’s why they call me the psychiatrist, that’s while they all line up outside my home, asking for my help. They nicknamed me Doctor Tomas, and I take that name with pride, despite my lack of professionalism.
I think it began when I started schooling, I wasn’t the one who had lots of friends. Always sat in the back of the class, squibbing away at a piece of paper, I really struggled to focus. I’d rather be drawing than learning; really I have quite a creative mind. The masterpieces I conjured up were truly amazing in my opinion. Always the ocean, the ocean how I expected it to look, different faces I hadn’t seen before, people always smiling having fun. As in nature for a mother, my mum got me prescribed with Ritalin, one dose every day. It was supposed to help me focus more, well it did the trick. It also lowered my hyperactivity, as a kid I tended to run around a lot, literally bounce off all the walls.
So with all the focus in the world, I had to put that focus to work; obviously now I had no excuse for skipping schooling. I think it was when I was twelve, when my first ‘patient’, came into my interest. One of my mother’s friends, having the usual natter one afternoon, I overheard their conversation. ”I really hate my face, I wish I was one of those Captiol people, I could easily change it.” Women with their appearances, that’s all they tend to worry about
“Ooh my hair is the wrong colour!”
“Ahh my nose is terribly big!”
“Look at my bum, it is huge!”
Really, do they not have better things to worry about? So just as the women left, confident little me, gave her some words of wisdom. Not exactly my best work, but it must have done the trick. “Don’t worry about your appearance, everyone loves you for who you are, not what you look like.” She looked at me, quite annoyed, but then smiled and hugged me. The next day she was back, she told my mother she doesn’t want to worry about her looks anymore and wants to focus on her family. Although, she never credited me for her change of heart.
“Hi my name’s Tomas!”
At school, due to being very distracted, I lacked a lot of friends. People barely knew my name, even the teachers. I was just one of those kids, who sat by themselves in the dining hall. I tried my best to gain friends. Forever greeting people, I seemed to be attracted to the wrong sort. The bullies of the school, forever beating me up, but I never learnt my lesson. I always went back to them, asking why they do such terrible things to people, I really had a death wish on my head. It was not until one day, that I found a particular bully crying, YES A BULLY WAS ACTUALLY CRYING! A boy my age, probably one of the most particularly well known bullies, sat in the toilets sobbing away. I asked them what was wrong, as expected the result was:
“FUCK OFF!”
I still stayed put, he obviously needed help, ”Talk to me about your problem. ” Then it all poured out, the boy was once a victim of bullying like me, so he decided to be the predator. He wanted to be a doctor, but was failing with his schooling, he told me he was once a bright kid, before he began to prey on the weak. He was worried he would lose his respect, if he went back to studying. My response: ” Hey, we’re in District 6, everyone wants too work in science, we’re all nerds. The brightest citizens become one of the most respected figures, it doesn’t matter if people look down at you. If you’re happy, you shouldn’t worry about what other's think” The next day, the boy was back, with a whole new appearance. He had changed and I had gained my first friend.
So it began, with my newly gained profession, people began to queue up for advice. My office was the school toilets, if I was at home, they could have a private session in my room. I was free of charge, I didn’t want anything in return, as long as I was helping people. Teenage humans, they have a wide variety of problems, some quite peculiar as well.
“I don’t want to work in science, but my mother is forcing me.”-”It is by right for any teenager to piss off their parents, more than once in their lifetime.” She persuaded her parents; she just wanted to be a teacher.
”I let my brother pick on me all the time."-” Stand up to him, you can’t be a weakling. Sure he might knock you down, but you knock him down harder.” His brother came in the next day with a bruised face.
Everyone came for my help, everyone respected me for once, I was happy.
All the girls were swooning over me, I literally had them at my beckon call, I was quite surprised I am not exactly the looker myself. Being a lanky beast, I am about 5ft 11inches tall, and weigh ten stone. My arms are like octopuses’; they’re so long and bony. Due to my hyperactivity, my muscles are slightly toned, all the running about; but I don’t focus on them like most people do. My hair, the thing girls always mess around with, wild dark brown locks, I don’t tend to style it much. My eyes as well, the girls admire them, they’re a bluish grey colour; inherited by my mother.
My clothes, probably the most plain in all the district. I am not exactly a fashionista like those Capitol folk. I tend to wear plain t-shirts, with jeans, on a cold day I wear my black jacket. The shoes on my feet, totally worn in, they’re a part of my body I love them. A dark blue colour, with a white toe and laces. Probably the worst things about my appearance, although I don’t worry about it much, are my ears. They’re so saggy and big, I’ve heard them being called a geriatric'sball-sack. Probably the most amusing insult, I have ever heard.
With all the help I gave, I don’t get much myself. Probably one of the factors, why I struggled to focus in school and was so hyperactive. It’s my father’s fault, everything is really his fault. He caused my mother’s depression, now I have to help her, when it should really be the other way around. My father walked out on us when I was 9, I haven’t seen him since and I don’t care if anything terrible has happened to him.
Despite my mother’s depression, she is getting help, professional help (not from me). I can see it works, but she still gets the bad days, the good days are brilliant though. We hang out a lot, she reads to me, I read to her; I love my mum. She is a physician, she isn’t exactly a very good one, but her income does us both greatly. We live in a moderate house, in a moderate district, food is always on the table; way of life is brilliant.
I can’t wait until I am older, I plan to become a professional psychiatrist, people will pay for my help. How brilliant is that? Of course I will still take care of my mum, I can’t abandon her, she needs me. But I still wish I had somebody to talk to myself, yes I have friends but they all want my help, never the opposite.
I think it began when I started schooling, I wasn’t the one who had lots of friends. Always sat in the back of the class, squibbing away at a piece of paper, I really struggled to focus. I’d rather be drawing than learning; really I have quite a creative mind. The masterpieces I conjured up were truly amazing in my opinion. Always the ocean, the ocean how I expected it to look, different faces I hadn’t seen before, people always smiling having fun. As in nature for a mother, my mum got me prescribed with Ritalin, one dose every day. It was supposed to help me focus more, well it did the trick. It also lowered my hyperactivity, as a kid I tended to run around a lot, literally bounce off all the walls.
So with all the focus in the world, I had to put that focus to work; obviously now I had no excuse for skipping schooling. I think it was when I was twelve, when my first ‘patient’, came into my interest. One of my mother’s friends, having the usual natter one afternoon, I overheard their conversation. ”I really hate my face, I wish I was one of those Captiol people, I could easily change it.” Women with their appearances, that’s all they tend to worry about
“Ooh my hair is the wrong colour!”
“Ahh my nose is terribly big!”
“Look at my bum, it is huge!”
Really, do they not have better things to worry about? So just as the women left, confident little me, gave her some words of wisdom. Not exactly my best work, but it must have done the trick. “Don’t worry about your appearance, everyone loves you for who you are, not what you look like.” She looked at me, quite annoyed, but then smiled and hugged me. The next day she was back, she told my mother she doesn’t want to worry about her looks anymore and wants to focus on her family. Although, she never credited me for her change of heart.
“Hi my name’s Tomas!”
At school, due to being very distracted, I lacked a lot of friends. People barely knew my name, even the teachers. I was just one of those kids, who sat by themselves in the dining hall. I tried my best to gain friends. Forever greeting people, I seemed to be attracted to the wrong sort. The bullies of the school, forever beating me up, but I never learnt my lesson. I always went back to them, asking why they do such terrible things to people, I really had a death wish on my head. It was not until one day, that I found a particular bully crying, YES A BULLY WAS ACTUALLY CRYING! A boy my age, probably one of the most particularly well known bullies, sat in the toilets sobbing away. I asked them what was wrong, as expected the result was:
“FUCK OFF!”
I still stayed put, he obviously needed help, ”Talk to me about your problem. ” Then it all poured out, the boy was once a victim of bullying like me, so he decided to be the predator. He wanted to be a doctor, but was failing with his schooling, he told me he was once a bright kid, before he began to prey on the weak. He was worried he would lose his respect, if he went back to studying. My response: ” Hey, we’re in District 6, everyone wants too work in science, we’re all nerds. The brightest citizens become one of the most respected figures, it doesn’t matter if people look down at you. If you’re happy, you shouldn’t worry about what other's think” The next day, the boy was back, with a whole new appearance. He had changed and I had gained my first friend.
So it began, with my newly gained profession, people began to queue up for advice. My office was the school toilets, if I was at home, they could have a private session in my room. I was free of charge, I didn’t want anything in return, as long as I was helping people. Teenage humans, they have a wide variety of problems, some quite peculiar as well.
“I don’t want to work in science, but my mother is forcing me.”-”It is by right for any teenager to piss off their parents, more than once in their lifetime.” She persuaded her parents; she just wanted to be a teacher.
”I let my brother pick on me all the time."-” Stand up to him, you can’t be a weakling. Sure he might knock you down, but you knock him down harder.” His brother came in the next day with a bruised face.
Everyone came for my help, everyone respected me for once, I was happy.
All the girls were swooning over me, I literally had them at my beckon call, I was quite surprised I am not exactly the looker myself. Being a lanky beast, I am about 5ft 11inches tall, and weigh ten stone. My arms are like octopuses’; they’re so long and bony. Due to my hyperactivity, my muscles are slightly toned, all the running about; but I don’t focus on them like most people do. My hair, the thing girls always mess around with, wild dark brown locks, I don’t tend to style it much. My eyes as well, the girls admire them, they’re a bluish grey colour; inherited by my mother.
My clothes, probably the most plain in all the district. I am not exactly a fashionista like those Capitol folk. I tend to wear plain t-shirts, with jeans, on a cold day I wear my black jacket. The shoes on my feet, totally worn in, they’re a part of my body I love them. A dark blue colour, with a white toe and laces. Probably the worst things about my appearance, although I don’t worry about it much, are my ears. They’re so saggy and big, I’ve heard them being called a geriatric's
With all the help I gave, I don’t get much myself. Probably one of the factors, why I struggled to focus in school and was so hyperactive. It’s my father’s fault, everything is really his fault. He caused my mother’s depression, now I have to help her, when it should really be the other way around. My father walked out on us when I was 9, I haven’t seen him since and I don’t care if anything terrible has happened to him.
Despite my mother’s depression, she is getting help, professional help (not from me). I can see it works, but she still gets the bad days, the good days are brilliant though. We hang out a lot, she reads to me, I read to her; I love my mum. She is a physician, she isn’t exactly a very good one, but her income does us both greatly. We live in a moderate house, in a moderate district, food is always on the table; way of life is brilliant.
I can’t wait until I am older, I plan to become a professional psychiatrist, people will pay for my help. How brilliant is that? Of course I will still take care of my mum, I can’t abandon her, she needs me. But I still wish I had somebody to talk to myself, yes I have friends but they all want my help, never the opposite.
