What I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.
“Peeta had put me to bed and I had asked him to stay with me as I was drifting off. He had whispered something I couldn’t quite catch. But some part of my brain had trapped his single word of reply and let it swim up through my dreams to taunt me now. ‘Always.’”
I just don’t want them to change me. Turn me into something I’m not. I-I-I just don’t want to be another piece in their game, you know?
I just keep wishing I could think of a way to show them that they don’t own me. You know, if I’m gonna die, I wanna still be me.