I Can Win But You Cant Lose,

In District 12, Looking Old Is Something Of An Achievement Since So Many People Die Early. You See An Elderly Person, You Want To Congratulate Them On Their Longevity, Ask The Secret Of Survival. A Plump Person Is Envied Because They Aren't Scraping By Like The Majority Of Us. But Here Is Different. Wrinkles Aren't Desirable. A Round Belly Isn't A Sign Of Success.

Not Only Does He Hate Me, And Want To Kill Me, He No Longer Believes I'm Human. It Was Less Painful Being Strangled.

Still, I Hate Them. But, Of Course, I Hate Almost Everybody Now. Myself More Than Anyone.

I Never See These Things Coming. They Happen Too Fast. One Second You're Proposing An Escape Plan And The Next...

I Send A Silent Thank-you To Dalton For Suggesting I Wash Off The Makeup. How Ridiculous, How Perverse I Would Feel Presenting That Painted Capitol Mask To These People. The Damage, The Fatigue, The Imperfections. That's How They Recognize Me, Why I Belong To Them.