kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ

There was a time when I was alone

Nowhere to go; starving fam’ly at home

I was to weak to hunt; we had no food

And the Hunger Games were coming up soon

Then one day as I starved in the rain

He burned the bread–I thought he was insane

He tossed it to me even though he knew

He should be mixing it with the pigs’ slew, 

 

 

He said, “Peeta Pan, that’s what they call me,

And I promise that you’ll never go hungry.”

And ever since that day…

 

 

He is the Bread Boy, from District 12

Always there to lend a hand when I need help 

And when we’re bored, we think of long ago

Always on the run from President Snow

“Run, run, Katniss,” he said to me

“Go and hide out inside a tree.”
District 12 is home

To bread boys like he

And bread boys like he love me

District 12 is home

To plant girls like me

And plant girls like me love he

 

He showered me with gifts and love

And told me to believe

Believe in this love story we’d achieved

Together we would run away

With a team of three

To our troublesome destiny

As we ran all through the town

That never loved me,

I realized that maybe Snow would finally bleed

Soon enough, we reached the Capital

What happened there was unimaginable

And I just want to say…

 

She was my sister from District 12

Always there to make me laugh or help me out

When we were bored, we’d play with her old cat

Always on the run from mem’ries of Dad

“Run, run, Primrose,” I screamed to she

“Away from Snow’s brutality.”

District 12 was home

To sisters like she

And she was so dear to me

District 12 was home

To sisters like me

And I was so dear to she.

 

Peeta Pan, Gale Hawthorne, Primrose darling

Even tyrant Snow, you are my legacy for life

District 12, I loved you so, you were once my home sweet home

Forever a plant girl at last

 

Peeta Pan, Gale Hawthorne, Primrose darling

Even tyrant Snow, you are my legacy for life

District 12, I loved you so, you were once my home sweet home

Forever a plant girl at last.

 

And for always I will say,

My name is Katniss Everdeen

Always there to lend a hand or help you grieve

And when I’m bored I go into the woods

Always on the run from mem’ries of old

Run, run, Katniss, they hiss at me

Cato’s right there, behind that tree

District 12 was home 

To people like me

And now people like me are free

District 12 was home

To people like me

And people like me are free.

Shoulder… devil?

April 29, 2023

 

The happy has gone

I knew it wouldn’t last

The raindrops it mocked have come

Flooding my mind

Heating my skin until I think I might combust,

Boiling,

Roiling.

Do I have a fever?

 

I already know the answer to that.

 

No. It’s just that little voice in my head again

Assuring me that I will never be enough.

My light is not bright enough

Because I’ve lost His

And can’t figure out how to get it back.

Do I want it back?

I can’t say the answer.

 

I wish I was as good as them.

 

The voice is going again, 

Assuring me that my body is not skinny enough

That my hair is not long enough, not blonde enough,

That my eyes are not blue enough and my skin is not tan enough. 

That I am not good enough.
And I believe it.

 

I wish I could be like her.

 

It’s that voice in my head again

Twisting compliments into insults

Weaving passive aggression into what was once nothing but praise

But now is the bane of my existence

The reason I hate waking up every morning

The reason I test the sharpness of my razor every day in the shower

Just to see if it’s sharp enough

To cut.

It’s not.

And I don’t bother trying to get a new one, a sharper one, because that little voice is going again

Telling me I don’t have the gut, hissing that

I’m not brave enough to do it

Anyway.

 

I wish I had a knife instead.

 

That little voice is the same one that keeps me awake to ungodly hours of the night

And early into the morning

The one that makes me miserable and makes it impossible to cry

Because maybe if I don’t drink enough water, 

I’ll be skinny enough.

It’s the one that makes me long for lunch but dread it all at once

Because my stomach aches.

But maybe if I don’t eat enough food,

I’ll amount to something more.

 

Is that really true? Do I have to submit myself to this? 

 

Yes.

 

If I made marks on my wrist,

Would I be good enough?

Would they notice?

Would I stop being a joke?

But that little voice knows I can’t take that physical pain

And it reminds me every day.

So instead I pick up a pen

Draw cracks on my skin 

Or emblems and designs I know will get compliments.

That little voice is fed by their compliments.

 

Do it again, it says.

 

And when I scrub it off, it rubs my skin raw almost to the point of drawing blood.

And yes, it hurts.

And yes, the voice likes it.

So yes, I do it again.

 

Am I broken? Dysfunctional? I must be. 

 

That voice…

It must be my shoulder devil.

 

But that wouldn’t make sense,

Because I don’t have a shoulder angel.

happy

 

all at once,

i'm happy.

the anxiety crawls into its own skin, devouring itself for now

the sadness shrinks away and closes its eyes, snoring gently in a heap of comforters

sleeping, at last

the happy crawls out from its den

yawning at its soft white paws, flicking its tail

stretching out beneath the big blue sky

the bright blue sky

the blue i fell in love with as a young girl

the blue that makes me smile

it basks in the bright white sun, 

rolling in fields of lavender lilacs

taking on the scent of earth's purple perfume

dancing because the raindrops that could come anytime 

are not here.

and i'm happy.

Blue

April 28, 2023

 

Blue used to be my favorite color

 

Full and bright

Beautiful.

 

But this blue is not my favorite color

 

Dark and sad

Miserable.

 

This blue is not my favorite color

 

Stolen and thieved

Painful. 

 

I used to be my favorite color

 

Now I’m just the other blue

Sad and lonely, forsaken, forgotten,

Got my happy stolen, too.

 

I used to be my favorite color

I used to be bright

Happy, even

But now I’m blue

I’m so, so blue.

You are enough

 

Late summer leaves rustled in emerald-shod trees, a stale wind combing its fingers through tall grasses that would soon dry out. Stray chickens roamed the plains, some chased by feral cats while others quested for food. The twilight burned golden as the sun fled from the battlefield that was the sky, bleeding lava as it disappeared over the Airedge mountains. Soon, a slice of moon stoically stepped up to shine in the sun’s place, watching the stars dance around it in their nightly ritual.

Below it all, a young girl–barely 13–stared at the ceiling of her small Riesen home, hands fidgeting restlessly with her fluffy dark curls. Her mattress was coarse and itchy, the blankets kicked to the foot of the bed in tangled heaps. Her heartbeat was heavy, her body hot with anxiety, yellow-orange eyes burning like hot coals. 

It felt like a thousand years had passed since she’d lost control; it was impossible to believe that it had only been mere hours. Images flashed behind her eyes and her body groaned in protest as she sat up against the wall, trying to shake memories of the burning archives from her mind. Thousands of years’ worth of knowledge… gone. It was a crime like none that had ever been committed, even if it had been an accident. What would they do to her? And what were they doing with Arson? They wouldn’t just kill him; she knew that. They weren’t allowed to kill him. 

…Right?

She was jolted from her thoughts as the door to her small bedroom creaked open. A stout ginger woman in her late forties smiled sadly as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. This was Magdalene Rieyers, her adoptive mother.

“Mei kaija, my sweet Mira,” Magdalene took the girl–Mira–in her arms, settling on the edge of her straw mattress. She gently combed her fingers through Mira’s long curls. “Let’s go get your brother, yeah?” 

Hope swelled in Mira’s heart. So Arson was okay, then. They didn’t kill him, and they were both going to be just fine! The Collective had realized that it was all a mistake, that they were just kids, that they didn’t mean it–and now everything was going to be okay.

Mira nodded eagerly, and Magdalene gently tugged her along by the hand, out the door and into the night. They walked in silence, Mira clinging to her adoptive mother’s arm. 

The path seemed to continue forever. Eventually, a tall, dark-haired woman with intense eyeliner and high cheekbones swept onto the path. Her long robes tickled the gravel, and Mira couldn’t decide whether the silk was black or purple. 

Magdalene whispered in Mira’s ear, “Kaija, this woman will take you to Arson. I’ll see you soon, baby.” She kissed Mira’s forehead and let go of her. 

The new, looming woman’s hand lashed forward and yanked Mira’s arm, her claw-like fingernails digging into Mira’s skin. Magdalene smiled sadly before hurrying back up the path.

“Come, Mira,” the woman barked, eyes narrowing sternly. 

“Where are we going?” Mira’s hawk-yellow eyes were wide, flickering from side to side nervously. She recognized the path they began on, but it seemed different now–at night, in the cold, without Mother. The air was frigid for the summer, but as a chill skittered down Mira’s spine, she realized that maybe it wasn’t cold outside at all. Feverish sweat beaded on the back of her neck. Shivers forced goosebumps to pop up all over her body. Her heart pounded in her ears. Needles of numbness stabbed her fingertips as the woman’s fierce grip began to cut off her circulation.

Mira examined the woman as they walked. Her eyes were empty and black; cold. Her sleek raven hair reached past her waist, straight as a board but soft as feathers. Her fingernails were long and filed into that of claws, painted the same inky purple of her dress, and the woman’s pale complexion sharply contrasted a poorly concealed tattoo that crept up the side of her neck. A tattoo… on her neck… why was that so familiar? 

A sudden dagger of realization stabbed Mira’s chest, and she tried to scramble away, but to no avail. “You can’t Strip me! You can’t take my power,” Mira screamed, her voice high with hysteria. “You can’t make me go!” 

The clawed woman–a Soulweaver, Mira knew now–snarled and prowled closer, her grip so tight that Mira’s arm was going blue, her claws nearly drawing blood. “You will remain silent, Dethridge, unless told otherwise. Do you understand?”

Mira whimpered.

“Speak up!”

Mira nodded vigorously, the motion taking place of the beats her terrorized heart missed.

“Good. Now shut your insolent mouth and do what you’re told.” The woman whose name Mira was terrified to ask yanked her farther down the gravel path.

This woman, a Soulweaver–an Elysian Soulweaver, would Strip her, and Mira knew it. She couldn’t run, couldn’t hide. She could flamelash, maybe, but that would be another strike against her–or worse, against Arson. Then they wouldn’t just take her ability. They’d take her life, if the Elysian woman didn’t first.

What would be worse? Death, or a life without purpose? Without a reason to live? Without warmth and comfort–and without fire? Surely death would be a better option. But what of Arson? Oh, what can I do? Please, Gods, if you exist, help me now. Kill me now, and kill Arson too. He won’t mind, not knowing the alternative. Please help me, Gods. We were born the same day; why can’t we die the same too? Save us. Silently, Mira continued her desperate prayer, her plea for death.

Eventually the pair came to a stop. 

Mira peered around, searching desperately for any sign of her twin brother. The Soulweaver, too, searched the tall grasses around them, as if waiting for something. 

What felt like a very long time passed, and the woman continued to merely stand there, watching the grass sway in the wind. 

Arson should be here by now… Mira worried. 

What were they doing to Arson? Where was he? She studied the Soulweaver’s face, deciding that she looked open to questions.

“Wher–”

Mira was cut short as the woman’s angry hand slapped her mouth. “Hush, child! Do you not understand what ‘quiet’ means?” 

Tears of frustration distorted Mira’s vision—not from the pain of the slap, but from the pain of silence. Magdalene had promised her Arson, and he was not here. She was not used to being treated like this. 

Another long period of silence and stillness passed, and the Soulweaver seemed to be almost softening. Eventually, she told Mira to sit and wait–quietly.

Maybe there wouldn’t be a Strip after all. Maybe Mira’s punishment was to sit and wait in this tall grass, wait for an Arson that would never come, wait until she forgot how to speak, wait until she forgot how to coax a flame. She hoped she’d starve before that happened.

But before much longer, a tall, wiry man with silver-blonde hair and bright blue eyes approached the Soulweaver and smiled at her, his eyes sparkling. “Nora! Lovely to see you again, milady.” He paused to execute an overexaggerated bow that Nora watched closely but made no comment on. 

“Frigg, where is the boy?” She snapped impatiently.

“Why, he’s just behind me! You know, he’s been very quiet, very amiable. This should be easier than…” Mira tuned out the nice-sounding man named Frigg as a boy-like shape entered her peripheral vision. 

He was a boy of thirteen with tan skin, tousled dark hair, yellow-orange eyes, and a light dusting of freckles brushed over his face and hands. He wore the simple neutral clothes of the Riesens–a loose white tunic, dark trousers, and sturdy boots. Of course, you could customize your clothes if you so wished, but Arson was quiet. He never did anything to make himself a target.

Until that morning with the archives.

“ARSON!” Mira leaped from her seat in the grass and threw her arms around her twin brother, but not before Nora already had her arm in claws. Nora tried to pry Mira away, but Frigg stepped forward.

“Nora, lovely, I don’t think it should hurt anybody to let the children say hello.”

“They’re incredibly dangerous, you dunderhead! And they could be much more powerful together. No, I think it’s best that they stay separated.” And with that, awful, horrible Nora yanked Mira off of Arson, who squeaked a little. His eyes asked, has she been like this the whole time?

A simple nod from Mira answered the question. 

Arson nodded back, then folded his hands and walked silently up to Nora, cleared his throat, and said simply, “I don’t think you’ve been very nice to my sister.”

“I don’t think your sister has been very nice to me,” she retorted. “I think she’s a rather horrid child, really.”

Anger narrowed Arson’s eyes and he grabbed Nora’s arm, who cried out in pain.

Oh, blazes, no! He burned Nora. Burned her!

“Arson, stop! Stop, you’ll get yourself killed,” Mira screamed. 

“The girl’s right,” Nora spat, twisting her arm parallel to Arson’s–and suddenly, their positions reversed and she had his arm instead. She was now the wolf, he the sheep. “You children are so poorly disciplined.” A bright red, Arson-sized handprint sizzled on her raw skin, smoking a little. 

Arson didn’t make mistakes often, but when he did, they were rather… extreme.

“Nora, let him go,” Frigg snapped, suddenly frightening next to his otherwise placid demeanor. “Let him go, let’s do the Strip, and then he can’t hurt you anymore! Don’t waste your energy, Nory.”

Nora winced at the nickname but reluctantly released Arson’s arm, shoving him back a bit. Mira snuck over to her brother as quietly as she could. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, looking him over for injuries.

He nodded. “I’m okay.” His eyes flickered to the adults, who were bickering.

“Fine. We’ll perform the Strip soon, but not before the Mediator arrives,” Nora assented as Frigg inspected her injury.

“Who cares about a Mediator?” Frigg scoffed. “We’ve been doing this for decades without one.”

“These children are unstable!”

Mira rolled her eyes at them, grinning at Arson. Adults could be so insufferable. 

“So, Arson,” Mira started in a low voice. “Tell me about Frigg.”

“He’s alright,” Arson shrugged. “Nicer than Nora, it seems.”

Mira nodded. “And where were you? You know… after the accident. Mother brought me straight home since I wasn’t badly hurt.” She paused, looking him up and down. “Were you?”

“Just some smoke inhalation. Some of your fire also burned me,” He added, more quietly. “But I’m okay, thanks to a Healer. She was very nice.”

“What’s her name?”

“Fiona.”

Fiona. Okay. Mental note: find Fiona and thank her for saving my brother.

She knew that the chances of that were pretty unlikely. She had never met a Riesen named Fiona before, and she doubted she would meet one in the near future. She had to be Vandlian, or Crothan, maybe.

Mira suddenly became very aware of the impending silence that had settled over the four people. A cold night breeze swept through the grass, sending shivers down her skin. Nora and Frigg seemed to be having some sort of silent conversation, just like Mira and Arson sometimes did. 

Birthday (June 22nd):

            - Na Na Na by Pentatonix

            - Through My Eyes from Brother Bear

            - Survivor by whoeverwrotethatsong

            - I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor

July: Story of My Life by One Direction

August: Cool Kids by Echosmith, Creep (Glee Cast Version because it's the clean version) by Glee Cast

September: Four, One, both by Sleeping At Last

October: A Place For Us by Fitz and the Tantrums

November: Feeling Good by Micheal Buble

December: Seven Years by Lukas Graham 

January: 

            - Break From the Line by Joey Contreras

            - Disconnected by Veridia

            - Warning Signs by Rob Houchen

            - How Far I'll Go from Moana

            - Coffee In A Cardboard Cup by IForgotWhoWroteThisSong

            - Walking the Wire by Imagine Dragons

            - Cross the Line from Bring It On

            - Zig Zag by Fitz and the Tantrums

February: Just Fine, Numb Little Bug, both by Em Beihold

March: Not Who We Were by Em Beihold, TV by Billie Eilish, She Used to Be Mine by Sara Barellis

Now: Train Wreck by James Arthur, everything i wanted by Billie Eilish, You're Somebody Else by Flora Cash

May: who knows