[81st] The Reaping — District Seven
Feb 11, 2019 8:53:01 GMT -5
Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Feb 11, 2019 8:53:01 GMT -5
The Reaping reminds you of the things you have to be grateful for: a home, a meal, a heart and a family. Do not get me wrong, I'm thankful for the things I have, for the blood in my veins and the bloodline I hail from, but I am not my father's daughter.
There's a separation. There's no give with him, only take. There's no love, only break.
As much as I love him, I have to put blood aside to focus on the world. He does more harm than good, reaping what other people have sown so that he can cash in on a quick buck and further his own career. He creates storms and gets angry when it rains; he doesn't realise that the world listens to his schemes and secrets, and that soon enough, a time will come where he will be on the receiving end.
Even now, he is rich in money but poor in happiness. It hurts to see my own father become motivated by such greed; I've forgotten what it feels like to experience a simple daddy-daughter day where we throw sticks into a tiny river and see which one beats the other. I wish it was simple to turn back time and pinpoint the exact moment when he started to ignore his heart in favour of his head. But he has too much power now—he holds the pen and desperately tries to create a distance between us and them.
I don't see an 'us' or a 'them', I see people. Each of them with their own stories of struggle and success that have never been heard because they have never been given the opportunity or platform. He holds the pen to draw a line between the rich and poor, to divide Seven by class and that is where my eyes fall blind. Seven has never been about othering another; we are here together, tied by the roots of our histories which overlap and intertwine with individual experiences of love, life and loss.
His hands are tough and calloused. He makes calls at midnight to signal his strength over his employees, and when I hear that lock click on his office door, I know that someone's loss is going to be his gain. His mind plays the numbers game, taking and taking until his business is an empire built on slave labour and artificial success.
I honour his hard work. Daddy's little princess Di—I smile because I see a glimpse of the man he used to be when he smiles back. I look into his eyes and I know that he sees a reflection of himself that went down a different route, that did not fall victim to rugged individualism, that did not fall for a dream that relies on shooting down the dreams of others. I tell him that I love him because it reminds me that he is not devoid of all love, and that he still holds the shards of the father he used to be, even if they cut his hands.
He tells me to be careful in the world and not get my heart broken. Little does he know that he had broken it long before any boy had gotten the chance.
A broken heart does not make me afraid of loving. Love is the be all and end all; it is the promise of all promises, the most beautiful souvenir that life could give you. In times of uncertainty where I hear frustrations from downstairs, love is the one thing I can rely on to make me happy. Love is the only thing I am sure of.
Seven has had its fair share of heartbreak; only twice in the past thirty years have we seen someone return home after being reaped for the Hunger Games. Seven has let bad things fester in its shell of a heart for too long; it is the reason we expect the worse without hoping for the best. Heartbreak is what has given a home to greed, selfishness and intolerance. It spreads like a disease from the old to the young, knowledge imparted to children tells a one-sided story of our reality.
If I were telling children about our reality, I wouldn't say a word. I'd hug them. Heaven knows they need it.
I'd love them because I can give love for an eternity and my heart will still not wear out. I come with my heart, I lead with my heart and I only do what my heart tells me: I do not follow the rules of how we are supposed to live in Seven. I do not want to see myself become a drone of a person, priced out of their life by lending themselves to a scheme of self-interest and egotism. I do not want to be Daddy's little princess Di who inherits riches created on the broken backs of people who are no different to me.
Seven, my father, the overworked and underpaid, the forgotten, the homeless—they deserve a cure. And when the world feels as bleak and unkind as it does, I look in the mirror and see a girl who has the means to be everything she wants to see in the world and more. A cure from the heart, a cure that gives and never takes; I can do that. I can be that.
Helping those in need is destiny. It has been calling and today, I answer.
As we stand like gravestones in the winter sun, I feel safe in the knowledge that the world returns favours. It listens, it sees and it responds in ways we don't think it is capable of. My hearts hangs heavy in my chest with the thought of Seven failing to break despite cracking, of our district dancing only because we have been forced to do so.
Seven needs more love.It needs more heart.
The world needs more love and heart, and I think that the world is losing sight of what it means to do good, to feel good.
Lenox Lachance's name is called and she needs safety. The third of her name, infamous by now in the Capitol—she needs reminding that the world can be good, that there is a girl against rhythm who is dancing on her own. I may not be a knight in shining armour, but I can be someone to fall back on.
She takes a step,
but Itaketwo.
I keep my head held high and take one glance at my father standing like a shadow of a soul that has seen the night become the day more times than can be counted. I'm going to love him and leave him because I am not my father's daughter.
I step forward to the stage and I lead with my heart. Love and life is an echo.
"Call me Diana."[ diana sayers volunteers as tribute ]