Jeremy Schmidt [x] District 11 [x] fin

Jeremy Schmidt
eighteen | male | district eleven

Gotta get a hold of myself
I see them gathering around
And they need me to do their will

I don't do it for the glory.    I don't do it for the fame.    I don't do it for the image.

I do it for me, because if I was doing anything else... I probably would have died already. That seems so backwards to say, to look at myself and say that if I did a safer job that I would be more likely to die, and yet it's so true. It's not the job that would have killed me, it would have been my own hand. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not suicidal - I swear, despite what I do that's the truth - and I'm not saying or doing things to get attention. I don't care if people look at me or not. I just get bored sometimes... well all the time, really. If I'm not doing something that involves having my mind and my body doing separate tasks then I lose interest real fast. Basically, I would try just about anything to get myself out of a boring situation. If that means bleeding all over the floor then that means bleeding all over the floor. ... I've been locked up in an "institution" a couple times. They say I'm crazy and maybe I am but damn it stuffing me in a plain room doesn't help.

The one trick I learned is that if I throw myself at the walls they give me a drug to space me out. It's wonderful, like I'm detached and yet still there. Somehow it seems to get rid of my boredom, too, and I can spend hours just staring at the ceiling while high on that stuff. ... It was the doctors that turned me into an addict, I swear. I didn't just choose to become one - a little surprising for me, actually - it just kind of happened.

It's like I'm standing again
On the same window sill
Am I happy on the pill

I have scars all over my body. Most of them I don't remember getting, though I can usually guess how - after this many injuries it's simple enough to recognize similarities and patterns. There's a bit of my hair that's white because of a scar on my scalp. Otherwise it's actually a bit grey but used to be brown. I've heard that some people go grey even though they're young and I guess I'm one of those people. There's the term "silver fox" that they use to describe men with grey hair that are still attractive and I mean I might be one. Also, I might not, because I'm not sure what involves being attractive. If anything, I repulse people, drive them away, not that I really care much. Sitting still and interacting with people in the normal fashion bores the life out of me - and yes, I mean that almost literally. I much prefer what I'm doing now, it's so much more entertaining.

If I go by what I've heard about being attractive, I suppose I might be. I'm quite fit, have blue eyes - apparently that's a plus? - and somehow my teeth are straight, well what ones I have left. I'm missing a molar on the left side of my bottom jaw - occupational hazard - and one of my dog teeth from the top is gone too. Other than that, I think the rest of them are there.

Gotta get a shot of something
Before I'll enter the ring
Gimme just a minute, just a minute

There are times when I don't like my job. I think that that's really common, though - you always hear people complaining. Still, overall I know it's the best thing for me. It's probably the only way I can let out my extra energy in a way that at least seems productive. It's also something that I can forever improve on because I don't know if I'll ever be the best at it, but I can get good. You may think I don't have ambition because I don't think I can be the best, but that's not true. I never said I didn't want to be the best, I'm just being real about things and I don't want to get a big head. A large ego makes you a bigger target and I don't want that. Keeping things in perspective helps against that, so I always strive to do so.

I'm sure my ma and pa always wanted "better" things for me, but I couldn't do what they're doing. Growing plants takes too long for anything to happen and I would have gone nuts a long time ago - though they argued that I already had. My mom liked plants so much she would have her own little garden, which at least meant we would usually have food, and my dad would work super long shifts at the orchard so that we could have enough to buy what else we needed. I guess I was a disappointment when I didn't want to follow in their footsteps. Still, I needed my own thing and I think maybe now they're seeing that I'm serious about what I do. I hope they're proud of me, at least to some extent.

Did I really ask for all this
Did I really cut open the goose
Just to lose what's in it

I got into this circle when I was young. Not to say I was a prodigy by any means, just that I was introduced by accident by coming across it when I shouldn't have. In school I was always known as crazy or wild or, as I grew older, psychotic. To set that record straight, I'm really not. Like I said before, I get bored easily and have a hard time sitting down to a single task. Well, this quirk of mine sent me running from the house late in the afternoon because I couldn't stand doing homework for another minute longer. I needed something else to do, anything else, and running seemed like a decent idea. Exercise was the only thing that kept me focused, if only because I could think about something else while my body moved.

I came across the establishment after some time, when it was starting to grow dark and I realized that I shouldn't be out alone. It wasn't like there are a whole ton of scary people out there - none of them really look all that scary - but something drove me into that building all the same. Inside, I gaped at what I saw. There weren't many people there, and aside from one or two women they were all male, but they were all punching sacks suspended from the ceiling. Each one wore strips of cloth tied around their hands, to protect them I guessed. One of them spotted me and grinned.

That's myself in the mirror
Funny I should see
only headlines and ads to my name

I was taken in with only a little bit of preamble. They would have just tossed me out, until one of them asked me to throw a punch at him. Startled, scared, but willing, I tried. He stopped it easily, of course, but his grin was genuine. They all agreed that I might have some potential and so invited me back to train with them. I didn't tell my parents for nearly a half a year, and they weren't very impressed when I did, but when I told them it helped me settle they gave in a bit.

Now, as I stare my opponent in the face, I can feel my body and mind working together for the first time in my life and I focus with everything I have on kicking his ass. My parents don't know that I make money from this - I usually just slip it into our little store without comment, or buy food directly after - but, even though I have a lot of injuries, I think they can now accept what it is I do.

I'm a boxer, and the only time I feel right in when I'm in the ring.

I was told I'd see my ally
Who are these skeletons
with guns taking aim