Your consent was not considered when they chose your name out of millions of others.

You were given no warning, no preparation.
Expectations were nonexistent when you stepped forward as a volunteer.

You were thrown in the darkness and forced to scavenge for the light, yet simultaneously appreciate its absence.

They buried you in thorns, then named it tedious when you refused to crawl.

Intoxicated, they praised your shadow, as it suffocated your morals with the promise of glory.

Hysterically, they cherished your doubt, and crushed any faith you once carried in your teammates.

Year after year they thrive because of your pain.

Year after year they manipulate you into Murder.

Year after year you consider the thought of rebellion.

Year after year you fantasise over love and comradeship and something more powerful than hate.

And year after year it fails.

And no matter what happens in that arena you always lose.

There are no winners in the Hunger Games.

Only those who die.

And those who live to face the consequences.

•••

Welcome to the 124th Hunger Games.

May the odds be ever in your favour.