I look at all the kids – all either dead or heavily injured – surrounding me and I'm trying my best not to cry.

Later, Prim I tell myself they need you now.

I realize someone's calling my name, I turn around and find Katniss. And in spite of everything – the fight, the bomb, the bodies – I can't help but smile with relief at the sight of my sister.

She's alive. Katniss is alive.

But I barely manage to whisper her name before another explosion, louder and stronger than the first, occurs. I vaguely register that my body, completely on fire, is being thrown back.

I hear Katniss crying out my name, heartwretching hopelessness in her voice, and suddenly I know I'm about to die. I don't feel any pain, though, just an intense heat. I do feel the life leaving my body, I can feel my whole being as it's being undone in thousands of tiny particles, as if my whole body were turning into ashes. Which, I guess, is exactly what's happening.

It's funny, I'm not even afraid. I know that in a few seconds, one minute at most, it'll be over. I know that I'm about to leave this world, so cruel and unfair, and be another innocent victim of this war. And I'm okay with it.

Katniss, I know you can't hear me now but please, once I'm dead, be there for mom. Don't let her slip away again. And give Peeta a chance, because that guy loves you so incredibly much and could make you happy if only you allowed him to.

But, most importantly, don't blame yourself for this. Don't think this war was your fault, because the thing is, while you are the reason it happened, that's not a bad thing. You gave these people a chance and, for the first time ever since the Dark Days, they were brave enough to take it. Just don't beat yourself up.

Also try not to think about me too often. I don't want you to be sad. Live well, enjoy the world my death is helping to build. You owe it to us, all of us who are giving our lives up for you to have a chance to leave yours peacefully.

I hear you scream again, and my heart breaks at the thought of how much you must be hurting. I wish there was something I could do about it.

I wish I could tell you that everything is alright, that I will live. But I don't feel like lying.

I wish I could at least say that I'm sorry to be dying. But that, too, would be a lie.

Because, believe me, I'm not sorry, not even a little bit. I'm not sorry to be leaving this world, too harsh, and cruel, and soaked in pain for someone like me to live in. I know I'm going to a better place, one where all of this, the pain and the war, will be nothing more than a distant memory.

I'll wait for you there, Katniss, and one day we will be reunited. Just, don't be in a hurry to follow me.

I'll be fine. I'll be with dad.