Im Still Betting On You.

I Mourn My Old Life Here. We Barely Scraped By, But I Knew Where I Fit In, I Knew What My Place Was In The Tightly Interwoven Fabric That Was Our Life. I Wish I Could Go Back To It Because, In Retrospect, It Seems So Secure Compared To Now, When I Am So Rich And Famous And So Hated By The Authorities In The Capitol.

If I Feel Ragged, My Prep Team Seems In Worse Condition, Knocking Back Coffee And Sharing Brightly Colored Little Pills. As Far As I Can Tell, They Never Get Up Before Noon Unless There's Some Sort Of National Emergency, Like My Leg Hair.

Because Something Is Significantly Wrong With A Creature That Sacrifices Its Children's Lives To Settle Its Differences. You Can Spin It Any Way You Like... But In The End, Who Does It Benefit? No One. The Truth Is, It Benefits No One To Live In A World Where These Things Happen

But Mockingjays Were Never A Weapon," Said Madge. "they’re Just Songbirds. Right?" "yeah, I Guess So,” I Said, But It’s Not True. A Mockingbird Is Just A Songbird. A Mockingjay Is A Creature The Capitol Never Intended To Exist. They Hadn’t Counted On The Highly Controlled Jabberjay Having The Brains To Adapt To The Wild, To Thrive In A New Form. They Hadn’t Anticipated Its Will To Live.

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.