running on empty :: saylor/fridae
Feb 10, 2021 18:40:46 GMT -5
Post by rook on Feb 10, 2021 18:40:46 GMT -5
fridae drummond
mars, the god of war, pretending so serene
he's keeping his hands clean
while i make war on this war machine
he's keeping his hands clean
while i make war on this war machine
The hardest thing in the world is to live in it.
The brightly lit studio flooring of the training centre has me feeling like I'm on stage. Cameras and Capitolites watch on as we find our feet, exploring the different stations and workshops, twenty-four bright eyed children ready to go to war.
Bruised faced and carrying a swollen eye, I drag myself from station to station, none of it captivating me, the desire to learn new skills exorcised from my body. It all just seems so pointless, and yet at the same time I know some of it could save my life.
Overwhelmed by the rapture of it all, I take deep breaths and walk to familiar ground - gym equipment, and make it my home. My lungs take in big gulps of air, still salty and coarse from drowning not quite to death less than a week ago. I've not recovered. I feel weak.
If I'm weak then I'll die.
I perform four shaky sets of pushups, my own body weight feeling like a thousand tons against my thin wrists. I used to be good at this. I used to have more strength about me. I wonder if part of me did drown in the marina that night, if something in my body has locked itself away.
Armed guards stand post on the edges of the room, and my eyes scan them as I rest between sets, sweat dripping from my brow. Cameras are pointing eagle-eyed from the ceiling and below them, various instructors making sure Tributes are carefully following routine and order.
After a short rest I progress to the chin up bar, wondering if it's slightly too high for all 5'6 of me. With a short hop I'm able to reach up and grip the bar with both hands, and although my palms are sweaty, the grip is good, and I'm able to start pulling my body weight upwards until my chin is level with the bar.
I feel deadweight, like a corpse, but I drag that corpse up towards the bar again and again, because I know I need to fight that fighter again. I know I need the little Drummond girl to come back to me. I need her to add a bit of chaos back into my stride, because right now I feel empty.
And I need to feel alive, because if I don't then I soon won't be.
a careful chosen word, designed to hurt
but will it stir some new philosophy?
retreat or be defeated, baby
but will it stir some new philosophy?
retreat or be defeated, baby