Each Time I Wake,i Think, At Last,

Then I Dive Into My Tent Before I Do Something Stupid Like Cry.

So That's Who Finnick Loves, I Think. Not His String Of Fancy Lovers In The Capitol. But A Poor, Mad Girl Back Home.

Something Keeps Me Moving Forward, Though. A Lifetime Of Watching The Hunger Games Lets Me Know That Certain Areas Of The Arena Are Rigged For Certain Attacks. And That If I Can Just Get Away From This Section, I Might Be Able To Move Out Of Reach Of The Launchers. I Might Also Then Fall Straight Into A Pit Of Vipers, But I Can't Worry About That Now.

An Ability To Look Into The Confusing Mess Of Life And See Things For What They Are.

Only.. I Want To Do Die As Myself