Dear Katniss,
Is it weird that I hate sitting in silence? The bad thoughts just get to you, under your skin, until you want to scream. I remember, once, Rory had gotten whipped. And we had to wash him off in the sink, and I just wanted to scream. And, you're not at school anymore. I'm glad. You'll never get this message, you'll probably be dead. Sorry, I'm not one to be very optimistic you know that.
In the back of the language classroom, you know that sink? I got in trouble for standing up for a kid I knew, and I had to sit, facing it. And I cried.
I'm glad you weren't there. I wanted to scream when the kids laughed, "A kitchen sink to you, is not a kitchen sink to me," but I didn't.
You were on the television that night, in your girly dress that you spun. And Peeta said he loved you.
He doesn't know you Katniss. Not like I do. Understand that, please. He's just a baker's son. You don't need him to survive.
Do one thing for me, even though you will probably never get this letter. Find a bow and some arrows. Make them, if you have to. Try to stay alive.
I don't know if you come back if I'll be the same. Because I'm not optimistic, Katniss. I'm already in mourning.
I'll take care of your family like I promised, okay? But I'll probably be long gone when you come back.
Mourning,
Gale
