When I Was Young I Was Trained

At Once, It’s Clear I Cannot Gush. We Try Me Playing Cocky, But I Just Don’t Have The Arrogance. Apparently, I’m Too “vulnerable” For Ferocity. I’m Not Witty. Funny. Sexy. Or Mysterious By The End Of The Session, I Am No One At All.

Everything Is Happening Too Fast For Me To Process It.

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.

I Go Back To My Room And Lie Under The Covers, Trying Not To Think Of Gale And Thinking Of Nothing Else.

What Must It Be Like, I Wonder, To Live In A World Where Food Appears At The Press Of A Button? How Would I Spend The Hours I Now Commit To Combing The Woods For Sustenance If It Were So Easy To Come By? What Do They Do All Day, These People In The Capitol, Besides Decorating Their Bodies And Waiting Around For A New Shipment Of Tributes To Rill In And Die For Their Entertainment?