roxana burke d11f cb done
May 15, 2022 17:17:56 GMT -5
Post by jackson thomas [d6m] arc on May 15, 2022 17:17:56 GMT -5
r. burke
We weren't rebels, nor traitors. We didn't support one side over the other. It (mostly) wasn't some sort of capitalist business plan that was aimed to give us a better start after the war was over. People were dying. There were mothers, brothers, sisters, fathers that were starving, and people expected them to just die. Both of my mothers raised me to be a girl that gives back. We must be thankful for the people around us, and provide for your community. In the end, we've only got each other.
A lot of this caring nature from my mothers' comes from the loss that we faced early on. While our household was never personally involved in the war, Ciera's brother was. He was a part of the rebels and died early on. The Burke's then turned our efforts to trying to create a community bond, as if the post-affects of the war were anything different. It was worse, actually. Now we have been fully pit against each other. Those brothers and sisters that were starving are now fighting each other. Now, kindness is seen as a way of deceiving. A way to try and create a bond. There's a paranoia in my area of the district that people tend to believe being nice means we want to butter a child up to only use their friendship in the Hunger Games to further our own chances. Or that somehow our kindness to others will null us of any chance of being reaped. Marley's mom once asked me about it when I was dropping off a few jars of our strawberry-banana based spread.
"This ain't gonna help you, know that right?" Her mother asked in a pointed tone as I was placing the jar in the cupboard. Well, yes. I know that. What would this do to anything? "I mean, what have we ever done for you? What do you gain out of this? This was all in the midst of her chewing on some food, so it felt all the more offhanded. That feeling of I'm just a side piece for their breakfast to vent to. They know my typical schedule of deliveries, so they keep the door open. Marley had already left for her hours at the field, so it was just me and her mom. It sucks that people can't trust anymore. Not that I blame them, I don't expect the world to trust me at any given instant. Though it'd be nice to just... be nice without concern.
17
strawberry farmer w gay moms
parents provided leftover produce to the community in need during the war for mostly good but some minimal greed
often gets kindness doubted for malicious intent