cressida and johanna are married and living in district 4 next door to annie and finnick. katniss and peeta visit occasionally, along with a reluctant (but secretly contented) haymitch. everyone is happy. everyone is healing. this is canon. thank u for ur time.

So that's who Finnick loves, I think. Not his string of fancy lovers in the Capitol. But a poor, mad girl back home.

this is directed to anyone who finds this blog or to me, in the future, reading my old words. i thought concluding this blog with some sort of diagnosis and reflection was good, but, i have more to say. this is the falling action of my character arc.

i would not deny the words i wrote in this blog, the repetitiveness, the anger, the grammar mistakes. i don’t think there is a deeper look into who i have been for about the past three years of my life (circa 2016 to 2019) therefore, i won’t revoke anything i said. it’s bitter and it’s depressing to realize how much time i dedicated to my brain, whether deliberate or not, but its me. i have sometimes been that person, itching to tell secrets and gossip but the secrets contained in this blog, though have constantly clawed at my throat, have never gotten out. this is a picture into a ‘me’ no one knows. i kind of regret my post about betrayal from my mom, because it wasn’t betrayal and it was out of love. i guess whenever i mention my mom, i don’t know if i could uphold that writing. but besides those posts, i believe this is as good it can get.

it seems just a bit tame to say i hated myself because of how reused that phrase is nowadays. i vehemently, furtively, angrily hated myself. it prevented me from trusting myself, trusting others, believing myself, talking to others, pursuing life, engaging in everything outside of my head. i think my condition was unique from the depression i typically acknowledged it as because i felt like i was trapped. i told people how much i loved things; books, characters, movies, tv shows, people, music, art. i said the world was beautiful out loud, and then inside, i said that the world was something that i never deserved. i remember the moments i said this so clearly, which may be why i tear up whenever eponine sings “without me / his world will go on turning / a world that's full of happiness / that I have never known.” granted, i am definitely not a orphaned, poor girl, starving and dying in the french revolution, but you know, parallelism or whatever.

i don’t know where this horror came from. i think it was a mix of social media, personal (social?) pressures, parenting (as is, like, everything) but i don’t blame anything. it was not in my nature or in my disorder’s nature to blame anything. 

i don’t regret the struggle i went through. it is part of me, my personality, to characterize myself inferior because of selflessness. it takes strength to even put kind words onto myself. it takes strength to admit it takes strength, as well. but it’s out there (which is much more than what i could do a year or two ago). this thing is not going to go away and it is going to be a part of every single thing i ever do but it’s okay. this is my journey and this is my life, i will figure it out.

i found what i believe i lost. a purpose, an appreciation for something. horror and fear and depression is a lack of autonomy and to combat it, i’ve grabbed continuously at nothing to gain that choice back again. i’ll say that i’m writing more and constantly fantasize becoming an author, but things can always change. its tentative.

not everything is perfect. i’ll admit that i’m not so plagued by gloom: the other day, after school walking the halls, teary-eyed, i noted that me crying at school didn’t happen as often. i’ll admit, too, that my mentality with food has never been good. i’m afraid of depression but i warmly invite restrictive eating. 

things will never be not hard but that’s because the world is not perfect. i love literature and books because they show me how valued my story is, even if it is blighted with failure and blubber and stumbling. i love literature and books because i get to escape the negativity the world has fallen into and visit the better parts of humanity. i love literature and books because they are never one-dimensional and they aren’t written in a blatant perspective; everyone’s life and writing is different. i love literature and books because they interact and dance with the bad, the good; the unforgivable, the angels; the crimson, the lily-white. there is much more to learn.

this was all born from the young girl, reading fan-written stories in bed, after hours, crying and whispering to the moon. i thought it was great and romantic, such a tragedy boohoo. all i wanted was to be recognized and to be loved for my flaws. i wanted to see past the facade other people had so they could see past mine and i could really touch someone. 

i was so compelled to include the suzanne collins quote about finnick odair in my title because he’s my most recent fictional crush (an engagement i don’t think will ever give up, as embarrassing as it is bleh) and he has easily become one of my favorite characters (which is a better way to put it haha). he fits into the archetype of a walled, put-off persona with a deeper, more meaningful character, adorned with a strong moral standing. but he also doesn’t fit because he appears so honest and flawed. i included the quote, i believe, because it’s sort of all i’ve wanted, for someone i love to love me, too, no matter what (romantic or not). love = beauty, beauty = the world, as naive as it is. i am a romantic and i trust in goodness and i trust that good exists everywhere. that, and because finnick is a character that embodies my aesthetic for tragically beautiful things. he is a theme of duality in himself, perfect despite imperfectness.  he is arrogant and sly on the outside, and certainly on the inside. his image is perfect and his reputation is unparalleled. he is desired, symbolizing a golden lust and envy. and he has been wrecked, physically and mentally. he stands for the sea that he has lived by and he is graceful in his work. but he has killed and dives headfirst into a ruthless persona, not outliving the pain his environment inflicts. however, regardless of pain and isolation, he is one of the most selfless characters i think could exist. he sacrifices himself for who and what he loves and he sees past inabilities. and it might seem reaching but to me, it seems true. and i haven’t even read the source material (eek, i’m gonna buy the books soon, i promise) , that’s just what translates from it. i tear up just thinking of his demise. but then again, i’m at least glad. glad that in his fictional universe he was alive and was himself. it’s great writing and i’m in love with how he was written.

i’m going to include a last allusion and it’s to harry potter. it’s one of my favorite quotes. dumbledore tells an angsty harry that he does, in fact, care about what he loves. “you care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.” i like it a lot because it’s not such a travesty that harry was put into the world he was, because it’s beautiful. and he did have the responsibility of caring for everyone he loved but he eventually embraces it. i think it was just so moving to read how unmoving sentiment can be and how the conditioning of people brings us to passion. why be passive? there is so much to fight for.

i’m going to practice piano now. thanks for being a venting for rants, tumblr. i don’t even know if these posts will deleted one day—i thought i could give the ‘it’s on the internet forever’ theory a chance—so yea. maybe this will all go away. it’s existential but poetic, too. time to play piano.