It's Strange To Be So Physically Close

To The Everlasting Credit Of The People Of District 12, Not One Person Claps. Not Even The Ones Holding Betting Slips, The Ones Who Are Usually Beyond Caring. Possibly Because They Know Me From The Hob, Or Knew My Father, Or Have Encountered Prim, Who No One Could Help Loving. So Instead Of Acknowledging Applause, I Stand There Unmoving While They Take Part In The Boldest Form Of Dissent They Can Manage. Silence. Which Says We Do Not Agree. We Do Not Condone. All Of This Is Wrong.

If I Get Home, I'll Be So Stinking Rich, I'll Be Able To Pay Someone To Do My Hearing.

I'm Sick Of People Lying To Me For My Own Good. Because Really It's Mostly For Their Own Good.

I Can Hear Him Weeping But I Don't Care. They Probably Won't Even Bother To Question Her, She's So Far Gone. Gone Right Off The Deep End Years Ago In Her Games. There's A Good Chance I'm Headed In The Same Direction. Maybe I'm Already Going Crazy And No One Has The Heart To Tell Me. I Feel Crazy Enough.

In The End, The Only Person I Truly Want To Comfort Me Is Haymitch, Because He Loves Peeta, Too.