Hunger Games

I read the Hunger Games three times through. I enjoyed them very much. I don’t know why. On the surface, it’s only a story of death and slaughter and twisted human nature. Deeper in, it’s a story of fighting for what you believe and hope, maybe. But the death, and slaughter, and not caring that my perception barely scratched the surface. In those books, so many people died, a bunch of them coughing on their own bodily fluids.

My aunt and I went out to the movies to see it. It was the last movie she saw. A few nights later, she choked on her blood. It made the Hunger Games seem horribly realistic to me.

There was a time of peace after that, like, maybe a week, but then… some neighbors were killed in cold blood at the edge of town. Tons of blood, tons of bullets. The twisted people who did it were proud to be getting the attention in court. Maybe they were mental; in that case, I pity them, but still. Twisted.

I read the Hunger Games three times through. I enjoyed them very much. I know exactly why. The whole time, Katniss fights for life, even though it would be a hell of a lot easier to kill herself or let herself be killed. I’m proud of her. I just wish she could have seen less blood.