Katniss,

As I sit here and write this letter, I wonder if it will ever reach you. If I'll ever have the courage to give it to you. I'd like to believe that I could be that brave, but then again, you were always the courageous one out of the two of us.

I'm sure you're probably wondering why I'm bothering with this. I guess the only answer I can give you is that if I don't let all these thoughts inside me out in some way, I might explode, and my father always said sometimes you have to see things in front of you for them to really make sense. I pray that he's right, because I fear that if I don't let out these reoccurring thoughts, they will consume me completely. And I realise that you probably just want time with your family, and you don't want me bothering you. I get that, I really do. But I have to at least let you know, very clearly, where I stand.

I love you. I am in love with you, and I have been ever since I can remember. I love everything about you; your eyes, your braid, the way you are unfaltering in your loyalty to those you care about, everything. All of it makes you who you are, and I am constantly in a state of awe at the amazingly brave person you are every day. And I know it's hopeless to feel this way, and I know that you're probably very happy without me in your life, but I can't stop falling in love with you every time I think of how you wouldn't let me die in the arena. And I know it's probably the worst thing that's ever happened to you, being in the Games, but I can't resent it completely. Because it gave me the opportunity to talk to you. To get to know you. To fall in love with you even more before being sent into the arena to my death. So I can't regret everything that happened during the Games. At least not completely. Not like you do.

And I know that you didn't mean any of it. And I don't hold that against you. You can't force someone to love you. I know that you have something with Gale. Saying that it doesn't kill me every day seeing you with him is a lie. Saying that I don't wish it was me that made you smile like he does is a lie. And saying that I don't want to punch his face in every time I see him for being able to be with you is a lie. But I can't hold it against him. How could I expect myself to be the only one to realise how amazing and kind and caring and beautiful you are? I just hope that he realises what he has, and realises that you deserve to be loved and cherished. Every minute of every day.

And yet, beneath all my love for you, I can't help but be furious. At you. At the Games. At Gale. At me. But mostly, at the unfairness of everything that has happened. At the unfairness that we were reaped. At the unfairness that someone as innocent as Rue could be murdered, and no one bats an eye. And ultimately, at the unfairness that you don't love back.

I fear, should I continue, that I won't be able to stop wallowing in my own sorrow. I hope you have the best life possible, and I hope that you're able to move past the horrible things that have happened to you.

And above all, I hope you know that I love you. Unconditionally.

Forever yours,

Peeta.