Sense |Hardly| Graces |The Fools| [Spesh]

[ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ]

It was another bad month. Another bad week, another bad day. S---, it was just another bad year. As I stood there with my back against the wall, taking another drag from the wound up paper smoking between my second and third fingers, I couldn’t help but wish that my friends were still around. Some of them had decided to move elsewhere; others were just busy lying around somewhere in the district. Of course, we had a great number of hangouts during the school year, but to me, while they were extremely fun, it was more of a stress reliever. I always went there because I wanted to be away, to escape from the workload my parents kept piling on me during the school year. Plus, everyone had their own personality, even though we had all gotten along very well.

But they were too busy and I didn’t dare to try to reach them. Of course, I was just a block away from Pongo’s house and a street away from Mark’s and Will was pretty much around the corner, but I felt like being by myself, away from the shed and everything. I took a long drink from the bottle held in my left hand, laughing sourly at the fact that I looked like such a no-good slum person just standing there and drinking. I used to be the good girl, the one who would study as hard as possible and never drink and do drugs with my friends. Pressure soon caught up to me and the next thing I knew I was being pulled into the world I had been standing outside of. My friends had helped, even encouraged, me to take my first sip of alcohol, smoke my first cigarette and whatever stash we could sneak out under our family’s noses.

My parents eventually found out and when they did, they weren’t happy. They had sat me down and told me that if I continued hanging out with my friends, I was going to be just like them: useless, jobless, rotting away in ditches. I was barely listening to what they were saying, waiting for something of actual importance to be mentioned. I understood what they were saying, but hardly let it sink in; at that point, all I wanted was another drink. Well, I finally received the blunt end when they told me that I was going to be stuck in the house and that they were going to lock me in…let’s just say I was happy when the school year was over. But then they saw my grades and while they were not abysmal, they were convincing enough for my parents to decide that I needed additional schooling.

I never understood that concept, the one where people went to extra school. The only reason why people did horrible in class was because they were bored, and the reason why they were bored was because the class was boring and they weren’t learning anything new, which meant that additional schooling was only an opportunity for people to be even more bored. The logic just did not work. My throat was starting to burn and instinct drove me to bring the bottle to my lips once again, taking another long drink as the alcohol only made my throat burn some more. The herbs still rolled up between my fingers were useless at that point so I threw it to the ground and stomped on it, partially doing it just to release my anger.

I could see the people walking by me, staring at me, judging me. If they didn’t know who I was, I would just stare back and give them a glare. If they did know me…well, I still glared. Why was it any of their business what I was up to? I didn’t even care if they told my parents; my parents could go to hell for all I cared. They were pieces of ---- and if anything, my idiotic brothers were worse. They were ----ing living with their parents those stupid ----s. At that point, I was in a half-drunk state where I could still sense that there was movement, but what exactly was happening was not clear. I could see shapes moving ahead of me, but sound was being muffled by a screen placed over my ears.

“Where is that damn…ugh…keys. I again lost?” I knew there was something wrong with that sentence structure, but I dismissed it as my cluttered mind as I went through my pockets, trying to remember where I had left my keys. “----. ---- all those pocket people. Can’t ----ing understand them. What the—ugh. Give up.” My sober self would have been cringing just hearing how I was acting, but all the toxic chemicals running through my brain was making me feel dizzier by the second and mumbling like I had no grasp of my mind. Or maybe I did. At that point, who had control was hardly a concern of mine.

“Where the—could you at least—Ah ha!” I exclaimed as I finally found my keys, putting them back in the same pocket that I thought I had lost them from. Feeling horribly accomplished by finding my keys, I slumped back down until I was sitting on the concrete with the wall against my back. This was just a disaster.

[Spesh]

Brin Paige Griffen

Main Text: 1f8f80
Speech: 4b8994
Anorexic Thoughts: 549da8
Other's Speech: 1d7373


It must be hard for someone who does not want perfection to comprehend it, and that is the exact problem that my parents have with me. They think that I am just trying to starve myself but I am not, all I see when I look in the mirror is fat. Compared to the models of the Capitol, I am just fat. Everyone who looks at me probably thinks the same thing, that I'm not perfect, not even close to it. They tell me if I eat I'll be pretty, but that I so doubtful, I'd just be fatter. Last time I checked, fat people are not pretty, skinny people are. So the only way for me to get pretty is to starve myself, it is what I have to do and what I intend to do. I could care less if people tell me I am skinny, that they can see my ribs, why are they unable to see that I am fat? Am I really the only one who can see the extra fat on my body? That clearly cannot be the case, most people in District Two can see, they can tell I'm fat.

Even my drinking of beer has stopped because it makes me fat. Knowing that I drank wasted calories is awful, so now I just drink Vodka and other hard liquor like that. In simple terms, I've practically become a drunk because I am just so fat. I don't have a high tolerance level for my weight (which my scale claims is just about a hundred pounds but has to be around one-fifty) so I just end up puking everything I drink out. It really isn't a pretty picture, but it is one I have to deal with. I can always hope that throwing up gets out all of the food I ate earlier, which will make me skinnier and prettier. The results are not there though, if anything I feel like I am just getting heavier, the exact opposite of what I am trying for. The frustration is endless, I can just never seem to get what I want, it is like God just doesn't want me to be skinny. Either that or I just have an insanely slow metabolism and I am unable to burn anything off.

It is really a pathetic lifestyle, where I have to be out and drinking because I have nothing better to do. The fact that even on a weeknight I am unable to prevent myself from drinking just because I need to throw up to stay skinny in beyond sad. That I am out on the streets of my district with a bottle of Vodka in my hand, it really is just sad. I see people walking by me, probably just laughing at me for drinking alone and being fat, but they do not understand why I'm doing it. They do not know that I only want to be skinny, just like they are, instead they just look at me and see a pathetic fat girl. The hard part about their opinions is that I really do care what people think about me, I want others to think that I am pretty, to see me as skinny even though right now I am not. No matter how hard I try I cannot seem to get people to not judge me because I am fat.

ooc: sorry she didn't acknowledge your charry, Dee. But she just wouldn't do it.

[ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ]

Once I was so sure that I was done with the bottle (there was hardly a drop left), I threw it away, still showing a bit of my “good side”. As fun as throwing the bottle to the ground was, the image of shattered glass disturbed me and I couldn’t help but shudder at what the effects of my laziness could be, if I had followed through. Leaving behind the bottle in the bin, I proceeded to walk along the other streets, making turns when I felt the need to. I still didn’t want to see my friends, even if I was in this state. This was something I had to go through on my own. However, my confused walking pattern and slight swaying was a dead giveaway that I needed at least one person around.

The eyes would not stop tearing away from me, but at least there were fewer in numbers. It was as if they had already seen this sight before, a lone girl stumbling around through the streets without any hope in her life or whatever. I was coherent as I felt their eyes press on me, but could only give them glares that made it clear that I did not care what they were thinking. As I kept wandering though, the people who passed by me had their own faces of disgust and were talking amongst themselves as if they were judging someone who was particularly horrible. At first, I thought it was me, but the look in their faces indicated that they had encountered someone else already and they paid no attention to me.

Which grabbed my attention. I followed the whispers and dirty looks until I finally found the source. Standing there on the street was another girl, somewhat like me. And by somewhat like me, I meant that she was holding a bottle as well. After that the similarities stopped there. I was hardly the size of that girl, who looked unnaturally unhealthy and I was sure my face didn’t have the blank face that she had. She wasn’t new to the whole drinking game, I noticed, as I took a glance to see how she was holding the bottle. If anything, I would have guessed a few years of experience. Of course, if she was drinking more frequently than I assumed, then she could have shaved off a few months as well. But what really drew me was that look in her eyes.

Even in my drunk state, I could see that something was bothering her and that it wasn’t the first time that she had been thinking about it. It almost made me want to walk over there and talk to her. The only thing that stopped me from running over there was the fact that I had very little control over my limbs and I was feeling very apathetic at the moment.

(WIP; I'll finish this once I have the time. =[ )