Out Of The Dark

Johanna and Enobaria

HELLO AND WELCOME TO MY PENELOPE SCOTT AND GIRL IN RED, GOVERNMENT HATING AND NERVOUS BREAKDOWN AS WELL AS ANXIETY ATTACK FUELLED PIEcE OF WRITiNG WHERE I AM TRYING TO MAKE YOU CRY BUT AM PROBABLY GOING TO FAIL!

What Johanna says is also relevant to you. Please try to make yourself better, talk to people. I want you to get better if you are ever at a low like me or any of the characters in this story.

HAVE A NICE DAY!

tw: depression, literally any themes you've seen throughout this.

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31st May

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Chapter 22

Johanna's POV

District 12 is, of course, nowhere near as explicitly beautiful or exciting as District 4. But, over the past couple of days I've been here, I have managed to notice how full of life it is. Everyone smiled at the wedding, everyone seemed happy. Everyone's celebrated the revolution here, no matter how many people they know have died- even Gale's family. There were so many children in that family, so many children that he never hurt, and a mother that's managed to ignore it somehow.

God, how I respect them. How I envy them. If only I could be like them, prove that death doesn't faze me- whether that of a loved one or someone I couldn't help but hate.

Sometimes I wonder how this place can be built on almost the entire district's dead bodies yet these people go about their days normally and they don't seem to see the ghosts everywhere.

I think anyone but me would say when they see the silhouettes in their vision. Most are fleeting, but some last longer. Some are translucent, some opaque. Some go when you turn you head, or someone walks by, others stay. Some go quickly, some fade away. But every time I have to remind myself that the person I thought I saw is gone. 

No more Hazel, no more Gale, no more Mags, no more Boggs, no more Mitchell, no more Snow, no more Coin. Thankfully, though, I don't see Hazel much anymore. I think I now feel like I've let her go, go onto a place I won't know for hopefully a long time, but only if I can keep reminding myself that I'm worth it. As Enobaria keeps telling me, I need to eat, I need to get rid of the never ending scars that adorn my arms like tiny slivers of red and silver. I try to smile sometimes, even if it isn't real. Maybe if I keep on faking confidence it could be real someday- that's what I tell myself.

But most importantly, I tell myself I can get over this, and I should. As much as depression makes you seem edgy, it doesn't help you.  I know this. Somehow, I do find it hard to stop trying to be edgy or whatever though, so Enobaria always tells me this. You-

"You're smiling," Enobaria says from behind me. 

I look confused. "Am I?"

"Yeah. Don't stop, it's good."

I smile more, partially because I know I should and partially because I want to. "I was just thinking of what you told me."

"Which bit?"

"That getting better is a lot more metal than staying depressed."

She scoffs, " Well, yeah. Getting better means you're killing your mental illness. Killing a mental illness sounds metal as hell." I smile again and sigh.

"The people here," I tell her, "they're all so happy. They don't care that this place is basically built over a mass grave. They get on with their lives."