Dear Katniss

Dear Peeta (14)

Dear Just Peeta,

You're not alone, I've come to the conclusion that I couldn't write to you because of my holiday. I went to the beach and I went to Adventure Parks. It sounds like a flame compared to your flicker, and I'm sorry. I wanted to write to you, I wanted to laugh at your messy handwriting, the way you pressed the ink so hard on the paper it leaked over the whole page. And it has small marks on the side, fingerprints from when you held it too tightly, pressing a dent into it. It's funny, how you think you can't get through this. You can, Peeta. I'm passive-agressive and not really qualified to give professional advice (haha woops) but I can tell you, you've got a good shot at doing something..BRILLANT! I think you could suddenly pull life back before it gets too far from your reach. And, I've imagined you standing by my side, your hand shaking and cold but the moment you let go of this magic invisible object that holds you in place it seems full of warmth and steadiness. Then I imagine the endless pit in your eyes lighting up, become shallow, the far drop filling up with life and light. The imagination of dreams are in fact, creativity. But I'm not very creative, so my dreams are almost surrealistic. I can imagine my dreams appearing from the confusing, but makes sense, part of my brain and then swallowing my creativity. I'm getting sick of writing, and I'm about to go hiking. I've tried to perfect this letter, like you pictured, and I hope it reaches you by tomorrow. Keep this one from your mother, I actually prefer this from all the rest.

From Just Katniss