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.
what she means:
finnick odair is viewed widely as a superficial character who was only self-obsessed and okay with being a killer, but really he survived the hunger games as the youngest ever winner, went through that much trauma and survived at 14 years old, grew up to fall in love with an emotionally damaged girl who had gone through what he had, yet she had turned out more externally damaged, grew close with a sweet old woman, was willing to protect her with his life and literally physically carried her on his back in the games, despite the risk to himself, stood with the rebellion against the Capitol even though he was their darling, publicly defied and spilled secrets about the president, married that same damaged girl he loved even in the middle of a war and had a child who he never got to meet, helped a psychologically damaged and unrecognizable Peeta and defended him, protected his friends and team against the lizard mutts, and actually begged for Katniss to throw a bomb down where he was, because he knew that it would save her and the rest of the team, even though he would die.
“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.
My children, who don’t know they play on a graveyard.
Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. But one day I’ll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won’t ever really go away.
I’ll tell them how I survive it. I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.