katniss everdeen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burnwithus) wrote2010-10-06 09:14 pm
burnwithus) wrote2010-10-06 09:14 pm
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(hawkeye) there must be some kinda way out of here, said the joker to the thief
Today is not a strong day.
There are days when I can fight off the cravings and ignore the tremors and the shooting cold in my joints. Days when my resolve is hardened, when I can think about the Morphlings from District 6 and remember them clearly. Whatever state my mind is in, my first instinct is always survival in the face of nothing worse. It’s not one that most decent people have.
Today my resolve’s been shattered so completely that I’ve resorted to desperately combing the fabric of my Mockingjay suit and the floor, searching for pills that I might have dropped, scratching my fingers uselessly against the tile when I don’t find anything. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t slept. My body’s as thin as it’s ever been, even in the months directly following my father’s death. But there are no dandelions here, and even Peeta isn’t the same boy who threw me the bread that one day. The island changes too much in too short of a time, and even though I’ve stopped dreaming about peace after the war, the effect is still there.
I spend an extended period of time rocking back and forth, trying to sleep before I remember the clinic and its probable stash of drugs, but it still takes another while to force myself to get up. Take small steps, Katniss. Keep your balance, Katniss. Open the door slowly. I give myself simple instructions to make it seem as though I’m going through the motions of daily life. The clinic is starting to look familiar but not enough that I know who to speak to, so I don’t. I stand in the middle of the hallway, wishing I had brought a blanket for the intervals when the cold hits.
There are days when I can fight off the cravings and ignore the tremors and the shooting cold in my joints. Days when my resolve is hardened, when I can think about the Morphlings from District 6 and remember them clearly. Whatever state my mind is in, my first instinct is always survival in the face of nothing worse. It’s not one that most decent people have.
Today my resolve’s been shattered so completely that I’ve resorted to desperately combing the fabric of my Mockingjay suit and the floor, searching for pills that I might have dropped, scratching my fingers uselessly against the tile when I don’t find anything. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t slept. My body’s as thin as it’s ever been, even in the months directly following my father’s death. But there are no dandelions here, and even Peeta isn’t the same boy who threw me the bread that one day. The island changes too much in too short of a time, and even though I’ve stopped dreaming about peace after the war, the effect is still there.
I spend an extended period of time rocking back and forth, trying to sleep before I remember the clinic and its probable stash of drugs, but it still takes another while to force myself to get up. Take small steps, Katniss. Keep your balance, Katniss. Open the door slowly. I give myself simple instructions to make it seem as though I’m going through the motions of daily life. The clinic is starting to look familiar but not enough that I know who to speak to, so I don’t. I stand in the middle of the hallway, wishing I had brought a blanket for the intervals when the cold hits.