Humiliation. Extraterrestrial humiliation. That was all I'd been feeling for the past few days, going through the motions of life with a fake smile pasted on my face as my inner self screamed. I laughed and lied, saying I wasn't meant to be princess anyway, but that wasn't what really mattered.

I was finished. I'd as good as killed myself. I'd gotten attached, fallen down from my high pedestal, and it was all my fault. Who could've known that a prank - an idiotic prank at that - would bring such devastation? Not to others, but to my poor, weak heart? How much more can I take before I break down? Will I really be forced to attend the single most terrible event of my life?

"Yes, really, I'm okay!"

"I didn't want a crown."

"I'm just glad to go back to living my normal life!"

"I'm honestly very happy for them!"

It seemed like sentences in those contexts were all I was saying these days, pasting my mask on, but vulnerably gazing out, just wanting for someone, anyone, to see and understand. Why would they think this was okay? Why would they believe anything I said?

"You're my friend America, and I would've been blind not to know it was you all along. I'm so very happy for you, you would've been who I'd have picked were I in Maxon's place."

No. I'm not happy at all. I hate you. I detest you. Perhaps that makes me a bad person, but I wish it'd been you and not Celeste who died in that rebel attack. I would rewind the clock and make that happen. If only ... but I can't. Not because it's virtually impossible, but because I know how devastated Maxon would be with your death. He's so happy with you, and it hurts me so much, but as long as he's content, then so am I.

If I have any sense, I'll quickly let go and leave my love story to remain in the past. But I was never the sensible one out of all my siblings, was I? At this point, you'll be wanting to know who I am and how we ended up here. Fine. I'll oblige. It's a win-win situation anyway.

Hello. My name is Lizanne Carter, and this is my story.

AN: Hey ... don't kill me. I know, I know, I must be positively wicked for leaving you here. But this is ... you can call it a taster. I want to see how you folks react to this ... taster, prologue, whatever you wanna call it, before I continue.

As you can tell, the main character doesn't really like America, and that kinda echoes my own feelings toward her. Yes, yes, I'm a bad fangirl, how can I hate the heroine, blah blah blah. It's just ... America makes things unnecessarily difficult. She's the typical 'I-don't-wanna-be-a-princess-leave-me-alone-I-have-a-star-crossed-lover-to-get-to' girl. I feel like the idea's been overdone, and please, PLEASE, don't take that as an insult toward Kiera Cass. She's an insanely talented writer and if she weren't I wouldn't be here, writing this story. I loooove the idea of the Selection and this whole dystopian country thing, I just don't like America. There. I said it. I don't like America.

Now, here's the other thing. I'll be accepting requests for Selection girls. The form is down there and if you wanna submit, copy it down, fill it out and message me.

*$ SELECTION FORM $*

Name:

Age:

Date of birth:

Province:

Parents:

Siblings(?):

Caste:

Occupation:

Personality:

Hobbies:

Languages spoken:

Physical description:

Love interest(?):

Thanks again! I hope you like this idea that's been floating around in my mind for a few months now ;)