Oh, Well. At Least My Blood Is

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.

He Puts The Chain With The Locket Around My Neck, Then Rests His Hand Over The Spot Where Our Baby Would Be. “you’re Going To Make A Great Mother, You Know,” He Says. He Kisses Me One Last Time And Goes Back To Finnick.

She Genuinely Likes People. All People, Not Just A Select Few She's Spent Years Making Up Her Mind About.

I Keep Hoping That As Time Passes By, We’ll Regain The Ease Between Us, But Part Of Me Knows It’s Futile. There’s No Going Back.

It Takes Ten Times As Long To Put Yourself Back Together As It Does To Fall Apart.