Courage Only Counts When You Can Count.

What Will Break Me Into A Million Pieces So That I Am Beyond Repair, Beyond Usefulness?

But The Words Are Easy And Soothing, Promising Tomorrow Will Be More Hopeful Than This Awful Piece O Time We Call Today.

Then Something Unexpected Happens. At Least, I Don't Expect It Because I Don't Think Of District 12 As A Place That Cares About Me. But A Shift Has Occurred Since I Stepped Up To Take Prim's Place, And Now It Seems I Have Become Someone Precious. At First One, Then Another, Then Almost Every Member Of The Crowd Touches The Three Middle Fingers Of Their Left Hand To Their Lips And Holds It Out To Me. It Is An Old And Rarely Used Gesture Of Our District, Occasionally Seen At Funerals. It Means Thanks, It Means Admiration, It Means Good-bye To Someone You Love.

I’ve Stopped Talking Because There’s Really Nothing Left To Say And There’s This Piercing Sort Of Pain Where My Heart Is. Maybe I’m Even Having A Heart Attack, But It Doesn’t Seem Worth Mentioning.

I’m In A Shallow Hole, Not Filled With The Humming Orange Bubbles Of My Hallucination But With Old, Dead Leaves.