But Some Secrets Are Too Delicious Not

What Do You Think?" He Asks. "i Hate Them," I Say. I Can Almost Smell The Blood, The Dirt, The Unnatural Breath Of The Mutt. "all I Do Is Go Around Trying To Forget The Arena And You've Brought It Back To Life. How Do You Remember These Things So Exactly?" "i See Them Every Night," He Says.

I'm So Tired, Katniss.

I Swing My Arms To Loosen Myself Up. Place My Fists On My Hips. Then Drop Them To My Sides. Saliva's Filling My Mouth At A Ridiculous Rate And I Feel Vomit At The Back Of My Throat. I Swallow Hard And Open My Lips So I Can Get The Stupid Line Out And Go Hide In The Woods And-that's When I Start Crying.

What Must It Be Like, I Wonder, To Live In A World Where Food Appears At The Press Of A Button? How Would I Spend The Hours I Now Commit To Combing The Woods For Sustenance If It Were So Easy To Come By? What Do They Do All Day, These People In The Capitol, Besides Decorating Their Bodies And Waiting Around For A New Shipment Of Tributes To Rill In And Die For Their Entertainment?

It's To The Capitol's Advantage To Have Us Divided Among Ourselves. Another Tool To Cause Misery In Our District. A Way To Plant Hatred Between The Starving Workers [of The Seam] And Those Who Can Generally Count On Supper And Thereby Ensure We Will Never Trust One Another.