In the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too.

"Katniss," Gale says softly. I recognize that voice. It's the same one he uses to approach wounded animals before he delivers a deathblow. I Instinctively raise my hand to block his words but he catches it and holds on tightly. "Don't," I whisper. But Gale is not one to keep secrets from me. "Katniss, there is no District Twelve."

You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.

I don't know how to make people like me. Cinna, how do you make people like you?

It means we're on your side." That's what Bonnie said. I have people on my side? What side? Am I unwittingly the face of the hoped-for rebellion? Has the mockingjay on my pin become a symbol of resistance? If so, my side's not doing too well.

Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we'd found each other.

No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that's the only way to convince her you love her.