Katalin Nahia D2 {DONE!}

[knuckles]

Name: Katalin Nahia
Age: 18
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 2
Appearance:

Stands 5'3" tall
Weighs 140 pounds
Has short, curly, sandy blonde hair
Has hazel eyes
Slightly pale skin
Usually seen with a straight face
Sometimes smiles
Dark bags under eyes
Loves wearing jewelry
Built for speed over strength

Personality:

Extremely stubborn
Has very low self esteem
Has a hard time sympathizing with others
Prefers to be alone
Very introverted
Afraid to look people in the eyes
Hates life
Exaggerates the truth
Puts a mask on to hide the truth
Lives in constant pain

History:

18 years old
Has 2 younger sisters
Has 1 younger brother
Constantly fought with parents
Lost her best friend from a sudden illness
Blames herself for the death of her friend
Hates her parents
Wants to run away from home but is afraid to be on her own
Relieves pain by training
Is a career

Codeword: oDair
Comments/Other:

These are my senior pictures taken like 4 years ago I feel old xD

[knuckles]

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb

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Katalin Nahia
Eighteen
Female
District Two

********

I stand five foot three inches tall
I weigh one hundred forty pounds
I am strong, but not extremely strong
I am built for speed over strength

"You're beautiful. You're gorgeous. You look absolutely amazing." "I don't feel beautiful. I don't feel gorgeous. I don't feel like I look amazing, so why would you tell me this?" This is how I start my morning out. This constant fight with my mother causes the anger I feel towards her to grow more and more. "Katalin, you are beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you any different. You are beautiful, and strong. I don't know why you constantly put yourself down. Why won't you listen to me?" Listening to her say this over and over isn't how I want to go about my day. I just want to lay in bed and do nothing, but she won't let me. She wants me to think I'm beautiful. "Mom, listen to me. I'm not beautiful. I mean look at me? Everyone thinks I'm ugly; therefore, I must be ugly." I roll my eyes. "Katalin, you are not ugly. Yes, look at you. You are beautiful. You're amazing. I don't understand why you think you're ugly because you're not. I mean look at you. Look how beautiful you are." I look at my mom trying to keep my tongue tame. Why does she insist I'm beautiful? Am I beautiful? I don't know the answer to that. I'll let the people decide that for me.

My sandy blonde hair is short and curly. "Katalin, why do you keep your hair so short?" My dad ask me this all the time. I used to have long hair. My hair was so long that it fell to the small of my back. The curls of my hair is hard to tame. I have to fight constantly to prevent my hair from becoming an Afro. The humidity is not my friend. My bangs fall into my eyes making it hard to see. I like hiding my eyes because I can stare at people without them noticing, but I don't stare. I'm afraid of staring at others, so I usually keep my head hung. "Dad, I like my hair short because it makes me look professional." My almond shaped, hazel eyes has to be my favorite feature. I love how the outer part of my iris is blue/grey, and the inner portion of my eye is yellow. My pupils are hollow to hide the pain that I feel on a regular basis. Dark circles, from my lack of sleep, surround my eyes causing them to look darker than they really are feeding to the pain that I feel. I use this as a sign for others to leave me alone. (I hide my emotions away from people like the mask I wear to hide my pain.) I keep a mask on to hide the pain I long for people to see.

My nose is larger than I wanted it to be, but it allows me to smell more, at least, that's what my mother always tells me. My mother always tells me this kind of stuff to turn bad flaws into good traits. Right below my nose is my amazing mouth. I refuse to smile a lot. I keep a straight face. I try to make myself look bored to make the mask I'm wearing believable. I don't want anyone to notice the pain I'm in. When I smile, it's obvious it's a fake smile. I can't fake smile without everyone noticing, so I keep smiles away. Behind my lips are teeth that have some yellow staining on them. My teeth are crooked, but I don't care. I was always told not to let others chose how I look, and at times I want to believe that is true, but I can't. I'm ugly, and there ain't no way to hide it. I'm the person everyone stares at when I walk down the streets. "I don't talk much." My voice is quiet almost a whisper. I talk quietly to avoid people, but don't get me mad because I can yell when I need to.

Hide the pain from the mountain of life.

********

What do I think of myself?

I hate myself. I wish I was never born. I want to die and get away from this place. The pain I live from day to day is too much for me to bare. I live with the weight of the world pressing down on my fragile shoulders, and I'm about to break. I'm about to reach my breaking point. I'm standing on a thin sheet of ice, and I'm about to break through. The ice cracks around me leaving me stranded. I can feel the water surrounding my feet sending chills up my spine. I make my parents mad every time I tell them I want to die. "Katalin, you have so much to live for. Stay strong keep your head held high." I don't know why I'm here. I don't have any friends. My own family hates me. Everyone hates me. I just want to be left alone. I want to sit at the table by myself with nobody around me. I'm never going to amount to anything. Everyone tells me I'll never excel in what I do, and I tried for so long to ignore them, but I believe them. I'm not good at anything. I just wish they would kill me. I want to be taken out of this world.

What do classmates think of me?

I've been told by many that I'm very stubborn, and I have to agree with them in a way. I don't like changing my ways. Once I've come up with something, I'm not going to change my mind for someone else. I guess it's something I've learned to live with. I've been told by many that I tend to avoid conversations. This is the truth. I'm very introverted. I'm afraid to talk to others. I'm afraid to look at people in the eye when I'm talking to them. I'm constantly looking at the floor. I wait for people to talk to me before I start trying to have a conversation with them. I can't bring myself to talk to others without them starting; however, I can talk if I'm made to talk. I stutter when I'm talking to other people I don't know. I tend to talk so I can't be heard. I don't want anyone to hear me. I just want them to leave me alone. Most people tend to see this, and they stay away from me. They allow me to have my space, but I can hear them whispering around me. I can hear the sounds of them making fun of me, and it all hurts so much more.

What does my family think of me?

My mother tells me I'm a special person, but I always get in trouble for stretching the truth. I tend to make stories way out of proportion to make myself sound better, but I only do this around my family. My family thinks I'm special. They want me to believe everything they say, but I know better. I decided it was best to not trust them. My father tells me that I need to grow up and get over myself. That only causes the hatred I have towards him to grow. He doesn't understand me, and I've determined that I don't understand them. I don't care what he thinks. I don't care about my family because they don't care about me. I'm just a doll in their collection. "Katalin, you don't care about others." "I don't care about others? No I don't care about others because others don't care about me. I'm hated by everyone; therefore, I'll hate everyone." My father tells me I have trouble helping others, well, if someone wants help from me, it's best to go to another person because I'm about as helpful as a dead slug.

It's a climb uphill to reach the other side. Is there really another side?

********

Birth

I was born to Mrs Trissa, and Mr. Blaze Nahia eighteen years ago
When I was born, I weighed 5 pounds 6 ounces
I was 19.75 inches long
I was born with a full head of hair
I was the first born
This is all I've been told about my birth

Four years old

At four years old, my mother gave birth to my twin sisters Laria, and Makilla. My mother walked up to me one day when I got in from playing outside. "Katalin, come here. I have something to tell you." Her voice is quiet and full of happiness. I run up to her to jump in her lap like I always did when she called me, but she guarded her stomach. She didn't want me to jump in her lap, and it hurt me. I was so mad at her I cried. She quickly calmed me down as my father walked into the room. He set down beside her, and he placed his hand on her shoulder. Both of them were smiling from ear to ear. I looked at them wondering why they were smiling. "What going on?" I asked as the curiosity got the best of me. My mother started crying, and I was afraid I did something wrong. I was afraid at what I had just did, but I try to keep from crying. "Katalin, you are going to be a big sister. We are having another baby." I did what any other four year old would do. I started crying because I knew what the word big sister meant, and I didn't want that to happen to me, but the time came, and my mother gave birth to the twins.

Seven years old

My mother gave birth to my brother, Lucius. I came home from school the day she started going into labor. My father came and rushed me home. I was so happy to be signed out of school early because it got me out of history class. I hate history. I always have and always will. I didn't say a word to my father, and he didn't talk to me at all. I could tell by looking at his face that something was going on. I wasn't sure what it was though. I had no way of knowing until we got home. My tiny heart pounded rapidly inside my chest. I wanted to run home, but I was smart enough to know that my father would kill me if I ran away from him. We reached home, and my mother is laying on the couch screaming. Tears are rolling down her face. I wasn't sure what to think, but my baby brother was born. It was another extremely happy day.

Nine years old

I was at school sitting in the history class wishing it was over. I was jotting random things down in my notebook. At this point, I didn't care about the history of the Hunger Games. I didn't care about the history of Panem because it had already happened. Already happened being the key word. Why should I care about something that has already happened? It just seems pointless to me. People rebelled oh wow it's such a huge deal. Class was over, and I was getting all my stuff together when a girl walked up to me. She was polite and respectful. "Hey, my name is Sariah. What's your name?" Her voice is full of innocence, but I'm still terrified. I want to run away from her. I want to be left alone, but she's trying to be nice; therefore, I will try to be nice. "M-m-my n-nam-n-name is Katalin." I stuttered over the words and my face turned bright red. "It's nice to meet you." She said before she walked away. I wanted to call after her, but I decided against it. I wanted to leave her alone, but we became friends that day. We became best friends.

Twelve years old

I became eligible for the reaping, and my father decided it would be best to send me to the academy to start training. He wanted me to volunteer for the games when I turned eighteen, and I doubt I will ever volunteer for the games unless one of my sisters is reaped. Father walked me to the training center the first day I was scheduled to be there. Several older teens were running around with weapons. I didn't feel right being around the weapons. I didn't want to be around the weapons because killing people is wrong. It's murder to kill someone, so I don't understand why Father wants me to train. "You must be Katalin. I will be your instructor for this year." His voice is deep, and it scares me. I look around just to find my father has already left. "Don't worry, you'll have fun here. You'll learn how to fight. It'll be fun." "Weapons don't belong in my hand." My voice is quiet and innocent. "I really don't want to be here." "We have a lot of work today." He sighs. Out of the corner of my eye I spot Sariah.

Fifteen years old

I grew to enjoy training. I was able to take my anger out on the practice dummies. It brought new light to my eyes. I found a way to relieve the stress I lived, but Sariah hasn't shown up for the past three months. I got out of training early one day, and I decided to walk to her house. The walk didn't take long. In fact, I ran it because my trainer told me I should practice running to get in shape. I reached her house and knocked on the door. A lady, I assume to be her mother, answers with tears in her eyes. "You must be Katalin. Sariah has told me a lot about you. Thank you for being her friend." Her voice cracks from tears. I'm unsure of what to say. I just stare at her. "Come on in. She'll love to see you. She's been saying your name over and over for the past three days." I'm about to decline, but I can sense something isn't right here. I follow this lady through the door. She walks into a dark room, and I follow her with my head hung. Laying on the bed, I spot Sariah. She's pale as can be. Her once pink lips are bright blue. She's shivering despite the fact that she has three thick blankets on. I walk over to her and kneel down beside her. "Sariah, I'm here. It's me, Katalin. I grab her hand and stroke my fingers over top of it. A smile appears on her face. "I-I-I've been waiting for you. I-I-I-I want to say th-th-thank you for everything. B-b-b-bye Katalin." Her voice ends in a whisper as she breathed her last breath. Sariah, my best friend, died in front of my own eyes.

Eighteen years old

My life changed drastically the day Sariah passed away. I've trained harder because of the promise I made to her. I promised her I would one day enter the Hunger Games. I train everyday to keep my mind off what happened. I've grown stronger and faster. I even picked my weapon of choice. I prefer to fight with a sword, but I can use a spear if it came to it. The sword is amazing. I love hearing the sound it makes as it flies through the air. I'm not strong though. I didn't want to become strong. I wanted to be able to use my speed more than anything. I've ran long distances to keep improving my endurance. I want to live on my own away from everyone I know, but I'm afraid to be alone. I'm afraid I'll die, so I'm stuck at home with my parents. They don't understand it's my fault Sariah died. I could have saved her, but I wasn't there too. I was too late. I fight with my parents all the time, and usually, I end up slamming my fist into the concrete wall. I look forward to the day I can volunteer as tribute because I want to go be with Sariah again, and the only way for me to die without killing myself, is in the arena.

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb

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oDair
Lyrics The Climb by Miley Cyrus

Narration 614a47
Thoughts bb5b43
Hearing 865f58
Speech 754738
Other e3c7bc

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[knuckles]

I am done!

[Deleted]

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