Time is just a guess.. ||Open||

Mac Starberry

Ever since Icarus died.. Mac Starberry had clung on to people like Jude (Icarus' brother), and Jac, his own. It seemed to him that days passed, seeming like years. Why was life going so slow? He felt like time itself had stopped, all the clocks in his room would stop working.. all the boy could do then.. was write. Mac had always been a fan of reading and writing, and seemed to be very literate considering how most Lower districts didn't get much effective education. He was lucky to be able to write.. he could actually discover his true self that way. Which is why Mac Starberry headed out of his home at 6AM just to write.. to discover his true self.

The boy had a destination to go to, also. Why not spend some time with nature when you discover yourself. He seemed a bit too spiffy to go into a place like the orchards, being in his sweater vests and kacky pants, dress shoes. He walked down the dreaded streets, more like dirt roads, of District Eleven, trying to find the big tree he always saw on his way to school. It didn't take long for the boy to see the ginormous tree develop slowly on the horizon. He kept walking towards it, gripping his pencil that slowly weared away after years of using his pack. This was his last one, so he'd have to get some more eventually. Luckily it was brand new and freshly sharpened.

Mac leaned up against the tree and took out his notepad. He was working on a story about his own life, and chapter one was finished. He was a story, and there was no hiding it. He was uncovering the pages like he had never read a book. The first pencil mark was written on the page. Then more.. then a sentence. It read.. I'm not normal, never will I be. I'm not a normal District Eleven citizen. I don't plan on working.. I don't plan on finding love. Well, at least not love that I have to support. I don't want children.. I just want to be normal. Like my brother, Jac. He's so outgoing and kind. Athletic, too. I'm jealous in a way, he has everything I want. All the friends, all the cutting edge styles.. everything I dream having.. but when I wake up.. they rip right out of my hands. He picked out a little weed from the grass, from the wind, it blew away. He was going to continue writing, but was disrupted by movements in the grass. Mac looked up to see a figure, looking down on him. Like always, Mac was always looked down on.

we're all just stories..
in the end..
and when a chapter is finished..
start all over again.