I can't deal with this. I could never deal with this. No matter what I've said in the past, I can't live without him. I can't let him forget that he loves me-no, he means too much.
It's that saying, "you don't know what you've got until it's gone." I never appreciated Peeta when I had him- no, not when I had him, I never had him; I had a piece of him. I thought I had him, but people cannot be owned. It was an illusion.
I never realized how much the little things would grow to mean to me, how they would haunt my dreams at night. The little things grew into bigger things which now seem colossal- things like the steadiness of his arms when they held me, things like the faint scent of cinnamon and dill that always trailed behind him. Like the look his eyes held when they were focused on mine. The way his hand felt, locked in place with my own: warm, firm, steady like it was my anchor to the earth. The slow tingle that worked it's way down my back when we kissed. How I would give anything to feel like that again- but, oh god, I shouldn't feel this way. Because I have the Capitol to destroy. Because I have a revolution to lead. Because, I am the Mockingjay.