Sometimes When Things Are Particularly Bad, My

It’s Not Wondering What I Breathe In, But Who, That Threatens To Choke Me.

And So I'm Stupid For Thinking They Might Be Useful. Because Of Something Johanna Mason Said While She Was Oiling Her Breasts For Wrestling.

I Begin To Fully Understand The Lengths To Which People Have Gone To Protect Me. What I Mean To The Rebels. My On Going Struggle Against The Capitol, Which Has So Often Felt Like A Solitary Journey, Has Not Been Undertaken Alone. I Have Had Thousands Upon Thousands Of People From The Districts At My Side. I Was Their Mockingjay Long Before I Accepted The Role.

Sorry Excuses For Hunters And Friends. Both Of Us.

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.