So I know I have an unfinished Odesta story, but this idea just popped into my head and I couldn't get it out.
They say that you draw ideas from whats's around you, but all I see is a pathetic mess. Books are piled up on every surface, shoes scattered in the closet, and guitars lean against the walls.
Maybe I should take this as a sign that I need to change my life, or maybe Dr. Flickerman's diagnosis was wrong. I wasn't really going insane, I was just lost in the jumbled-ness of my mind.
Yesterday I was released from Panem's Mental Institution. Yesterday was the day that Dr. Flickerman handed me this stupid green notebook.
"Your problem is that you keep everything chained inside your mind Annie." He said with the same gravely voice that makes me shutter every time he speaks. His pale blue eyes stared deep into my soul as if he wanted to extract it.
I bet he did.
"Maybe if you write your problems down, you won't have to face as many." Then he picked it up with his shaky hand. I grabbed it and quickly ran out of the room, not wanting anymore conversation.
I dont even know what I should write about.
Should I write about my mind?
Should I write about my life?
Should I write about Finnick?
NO. I shouldn't write about anything. Did Dr. Flickerman even realize what would happen to me if I ever read myself back? I would actually go crazy and next time I wouldn't make it to Panem.
Restrictions and madness makes me think of my mother. She stopped by my apartment today bearing gifts from the superficial world. She strutted her poised complexion across the tiled floor, not saying a word to me, and dumped heaps of groceries and clothes on the counter. Its not like I actually needed them, its just that Effie Cresta had to maintain her family impression, faboulosity and perfection, something I dont really fit into. I just sat at the end of the counter staring back, not muttering a word until she left.
Her coolness makes me remember that she keeps everything inside of herself, just like me, and that is someone I never want to be.
Maybe I should write. Reliving my torment is something I do on the daily, so why not write it down. When I get old and lose my memory, I'll need something to remind me of my torturous life.
"Writing down your troubles may contort your emotions, but it's perfectly natural and wholesome for your recovery."
Another gem from Dr. Flickerman.
Maybe I don't want to write because I know whats going to happen when I do. I'm gonna cry, and scream, and hate myself even more then I already do.
"Your eyes are always prettier when they are full of tears." Finnick always told me. He always said he loved the way the wetness made my orbs shine. "It's electrifying." Wherever he is , maybe he could see me. He's probably laughing at me for debating over a piece of paper's future.
He said I made him happy, so maybe if I write about us, he could see my tear lit eyes, my blushes, and my incoherent giggles.
Maybe he will be happy again.
I hope y'all liked it :)
Please review :D It makes my day!