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As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.
Suzanne Collins
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Suzanne Collins
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: August 10
Executive Producer
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Hartford
Connecticut
Suzanne Marie Collins
Suzanne Collins
Mind
Glasses
Shatter
Overcoming
Grip
Obviously
Bottle
Hear
Bottles
Since
Floor
Lost
Glass
Seems
Appropriate
Everything
Alcohol
Overcomes
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Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple of hours, I say. For what? Nothing's going on here, he says. Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your looks a lot. This, of course, brings on a scowl that makes him grin.
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And suddenly, it's as if there's no one in the world but these two, crashing through space to reach each other. They collide, enfold, lose their balance, and slam against a wall, where they stay. Clinging into one being. Indivisible.
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I'm not flailing now, as my muscles are rigid with the tension of holding myself together.
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Tick tock, this is a clock.
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if he goes and dies on me now, I know I'll go completely insane.
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But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.
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Time and tragedy have forced her to grow too quickly, at least for my taste, into a young woman who stitches bleeding wounds and knows our mother can hear only so much.
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One of the most memorable things I hear is when someone tells me that my books got a reluctant reader to read.
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Sometimes when things are particularly bad, my brain will give me a happy dream. [...] When I fully awaken, I'm momentarily comforted. I try to hold on to the peaceful feeling of the dream, but it quickly slips away, leaving me sadder than ever.
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If I'm going to cry, now is the time. By morning, I'll be able to wash all the damage done by the tears from my face. But no tears come. I'm too tired or too numb to cry. The only thing I feel is a desire to be somewhere else. So I let the train rock me into oblivion.
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What about you? Not a clue. I keep wishing I could bake a cake or something.
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Frankly, our ancestors don't seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars, the broken planet. Clearly, they didn't care about what would happen to the people who came after them.
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Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. “For you.” I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments.
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I also want to tell him how much I already miss him. But that wouldn't be fair on my part.
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You and me Haymitch.Very cozy.Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights sitting around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tale. -Peeta Mellark
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That what? That I knew i misjudged you. That you love him. I'm not saying In what way. Maybe you don't know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him, he says gently.
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