I Go Back To My Room And

My Guess Is That Fearful Events Are The Hardest To Root Out. They're The Ones We Naturally Remember The Best, After All.

We Star-crossed Lovers Of District 12, Who Suffered So Much And Enjoyed So Little The Rewards Of Our Victory, Do Not Seek Our Fans' Favor, Grace Them With Our Smiles, Or Catch Their Kisses. We Are Unforgiving. And I Love It. Getting To Be Myself At Last.

I Can't Argue That Finnick Isn't One Of The Most Stunning, Sensuous People On The Planet. But I Can Honestly Say He's Never Been Attractive To Me. Maybe He's Too Pretty, Or Maybe He's Too Easy To Get, Or Maybe It's Really That He'd Just Be Too Easy To Lose.

I'm Going To Be The Mockingjay.

When I Wake, I Have A Brief, Delicious Feeling Of Happiness That Is Somehow Connected With Peeta. Happiness, Of Course, Is A Complete Absurdity At This Point, Since At The Rate Things Are Going, I'll Be Dead In A Day. And That's The Best-case Scenario, If I'm Able To Eliminate The Rest Of The Field, Including Myself, And Get Peeta Crowned As The Winner Of The Quarter Quell. Still, The Sensation's So Unexpected And Sweet I Cling To It, If Only For A Few Moments. Before The Gritty Sand, The Hot Sun, And My Itching Skin Demand A Return To Reality.