Five Years Later I Still Wake Up

Oh, Well. At Least My Blood Is Flowing.

Yes, Victors Are Our Strongest. They're The Ones Who Survived The Arena And Slipped The Noose Of Poverty That Strangles The Rest Of Us. They, Or Should I Say We, Are The Very Embodiment Of Hope Where There Is No Hope. And Now Twenty-three Of Us Will Be Killed To Show How Even That Hope Was An Illusion.

You're Punishing Him Over And Over For Things That Are Out Of His Control. Now, I'm Not Saying You Shouldn't Have A Fully Loaded Weapon Next To You Round The Clock. But I Think It's Time You Flipped This Little Scenario In Your Head. If You'd Been Taken By The Capitol, And Hijacked, And Then Tried To Kill Peeta, Is This The Way He Would Be Treating You?" Demands Haymitch. I Fall Silent. It Isn't. It Isn't How He Would Be Treating Me At All. He Would Be Trying To Get Me Back At Any Cost. Not Shutting Me Out, Abandoning Me, Greeting Me With Hostility At Every Turn.

We're Supposed To Be Making Up This Stuff, Playing At Being In Love, Not Actually Being In Love.

Swathed In Silk, I Feel Like A Caterpillar In A Cocoon Awaiting Metamorphosis. I Always Supposed That To Be A Peaceful Condition. At First It Is. But As I Journey Into The Night, I Feel More And More Trapped, Suffocated By The Slippery Bindings, Unable To Emerge Until I Have Transformed Into Something Of Beauty. I Squirm, Trying To Shed My Ruined Body And Unlock The Secret To Growing Flawless Wings. Despite Enormous Effort, I Remain A Hideous Creature, Fired Into My Current Form By The Blast From The Bombs.