There's only so many times a person can be broken before they can't be fixed.
I have surpassed that number.
I was broken when my father died.
I was shattered every time a cannon went off in that arena.
And I was obliterated when I woke up without peeta.
I am like a vase. I sit perched on the table, teetering with every jostle.
Until finally the table shakes and the world is ripped out from under me.
I fall and shatter upon the ground.
The people glue me back together. Doctors, family, nurses, friends, scientists, and Gale.
And just when the glue dries and I can hold water again, I fall.
And crack.
Only this time some of my pieces are missing.
And when they put me back together: I am no longer whole, I'm a puzzle with one missing piece.
But this cycle repeats itself. Cruelly. And I fall again and again.
Until all I am is a shell of my old self.
Broken beyond repair.
I am a vase; that cannot hold water because I am cracked and destroyed.
I am decimated and nothing will fix me.
