Have you ever felt so alone that when people come around that you push them away? That's how I felt while I lived in base camp one section four by myself for a year or as we call it now, B1-04 . During that time the Space Civilization Admins (SCA) weeded through millions of applicants trying to escape the annual executions they must do to keep the populations under control. Only "the lucky ones" get sent here to the moon. They carefully chose babies with good genetics. Genetics that don't have diabetes, sickle-cell traits and even the possibility of being gay. Then, they are trained in facilities in the northern hemisphere certain a skill that will come in handy in space. Then, they distribute one per base. Currently in B1-04 we have Alicia, the chef, Leighton the doctor, Jesse the engineer (or Mr. Fixyoshit), Zoe the scientist, and last and certainly least Pakston the housewife and maid. But who am I to judge. It's not like my jobs any better. I'm on the distribution team and help distribute supplies every month to all 60 base apartments. My jobs really get any more interesting then me putting on my silver plate name tag with my magical seven letters that read out to be Caleigh.
Renaissance. It's a funny word with too many letters. It's direct meaning is "rebirth". That's what we are supposed to be. A new generation of the world to help it survive and thrive. Let's emphasize that "supposed to be part". I used to believe everything the SCA used to say but I know everything they say is a lie.
"This upcoming year you will all be able to come back to earth and visit with your old coaches from training!"
They said that three years ago and since I came up here four years ago, I have not once been back to earth.
Love is a funny word. We train ourselves to say it when we don't mean it but I've excepted the fact. I don't love my parents, because I've never met them. I don't need love, it only is a weakness. Death is intimate, so if I lose someone I love, It's screws with my emotions and makes me vulnerable. No thanks.
On my B-card it says I am a female 18 year old, Caucasian. That my hair color is dirty blonde and my eyes are green. I am 5'6 , weigh 127 pounds and I work as a distributer as well as belong to B1-04. But all of that does not define me. It's who I am now and what I do that defines me. I am not my parent's daughter who they applied to be sent away, I am not a distributor. I am who I am now and no one can tell me different. Not the SCA, Not my card, I am what I am so deal with it.
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The Excess
Teen Fiction"Did she kill you last night?" Pakston says digging into his pile of pancakes. "No." He replies "Didn't even try?" "No." "So you didn't hear her sharpening her knives last night? I heard her." Pakston cackles "Screw off lover boy." "Make me." Leig...
