In Other Words, I Step

I Merely Feel Emptyness. A Hollow Of Dead Brush Where Flowers Use To Bloom.

At Once, It’s Clear I Cannot Gush. We Try Me Playing Cocky, But I Just Don’t Have The Arrogance. Apparently, I’m Too “vulnerable” For Ferocity. I’m Not Witty. Funny. Sexy. Or Mysterious By The End Of The Session, I Am No One At All.

Cleaning Me Up Is Just A Preliminary Step To Determining My New Look. With My Acid-damaged Hair, Sunburned Skin, And Ugly Scars, The Prep Team Has To Make Me Pretty And Then Damage, Burn, And Scare Me In A More Attractive Way.

He Could Have Had His Choice Of Any Woman In The District. And He Chose Solitude. Not Solitude – That Sounds Too Peaceful. More Like Solitary Confinement.

Then Something Unexpected Happens. At Least, I Don't Expect It Because I Don't Think Of District 12 As A Place That Cares About Me. But A Shift Has Occurred Since I Stepped Up To Take Prim's Place, And Now It Seems I Have Become Someone Precious. At First One, Then Another, Then Almost Every Member Of The Crowd Touches The Three Middle Fingers Of Their Left Hand To Their Lips And Holds It Out To Me. It Is An Old And Rarely Used Gesture Of Our District, Occasionally Seen At Funerals. It Means Thanks, It Means Admiration, It Means Good-bye To Someone You Love.