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❝ Look at us, you and I, back at it again. ❞
━━ Lana Del Rey
IF IT WERE UP TO ME, IF I HAD HAD THE POWER TO CHOOSE MY OWN FATE, THE HUNGER GAMES WOULD HAVE BEEN ENTIRELY FORGOTTEN. They would have been buried in the back of my mind, to never be thought about again.
Yet, I don't have the power to control the echos of my scarred memories and the reminders of the splatters of crimson blood. The human brain is too complex for that type of action. Plus, the whole word itself makes that completely impossible.
Before this, before the game, I could wipe off progressive specks of trauma the universe handed me, no matter how difficult it was, having the possibility to not face it again. Now, constant reminders of what I did pop up, transforming me into someone I'm not. Shifting my identity and characteristics.
I am not the girl on fire. I am not a killer. I am just a girl from District Twelve, attempting to survive and make the most of what I have. I'm more than a Victor that murders her enemies. I'm a daughter, a sister, a compassionate girl that loves.
I dream of breaking the golden crown that's glued onto my head, shatter it into a millions piece of feed it to the hungry stomachs of the Capitol that desire to see the blood running down my cheeks and mix with the salt from my invisible tears.
When I walk around my district, whispers follow me around like hungry mutations, twinkle of admiration in my watcher's eyes also persist. If only they could know. If only I could hand them a carefully cut piece of my soul, so they can be thrown into it all. To learn what my victory truly reflects.
