Isn't It Strange That I

Happy Hunger Games! And May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor.

And Then There Was Tick. Brave Little Tick, Who Had Flown Into The Faces Of An Army Of Rats To Save His Baby Sister. Tick - Who Never Spoke Much. Tick - Who Shared Her Food. Tick - Who Was After All Just A Roach. Just A Roach Who Had Given All The Time She Had Left So That Boots Could Have More. Gregor Pressed Boots's Fingers Against His Lips And Felt Scalding Tears Begin To Slide Down His Cheeks. He Hadn't Cried, Not The Whole Time He'd Been Down Here, And There Had Been Plenty Of Bad Stuff. But Somehow Tick's Sacrifice Had Crushed Whatever Thin Shell Remained Between Him And Sorrow.

All I Can Think Of Is The Emaciated Bodies Of Children On Our Kitchen Table As My Mother Prescribes What The Parent's Can't Give. More Food.

They Can't Hurt Me. I'm Not Like The Rest Of You. There's No One Left I Love.

It's As If I'm Finnick, Watching Images Of My Life Flash By. The Mast Of A Boat, A Silver Parachute, Mags Laughing, A Pink Sky, Beetee's Trident, Annie In Her Wedding Dress, Waves Breaking Over Rocks. Then Its Over.