Dear Panem

District 6

Dear Panem,

"Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour"

The problem with this phrase, hearing it for over 75 years, is that the odds are never in our, or any district's favour, for that matter. And even if they were, why did it matter? Just because the odds were in someone's favour, it didn't necessarily mean that they were going to win! What about that guy from District 2 last year? Weren't his odds at 2-1? As close as you can get from being certain that he was going to be the victor! But did he get it? No, he didn't. He fell down to two people whose odds were far from in their favour. 

However, this isn't the biggest issue I have with the Hunger Games, something I despise more than anyone in Panem does. What angers me the most about them is how the Capitol find it to be a celebration, an event of contentment, hence why they say, "Happy Hunger Games..." Yes, because seeing 23 of our youth being killed in front of thousands of people is such a wonderful sight! It's not like it causes trauma for the victor and the families of the fallen tributes! No! Not at all! It puts nothing but smiles on their faces!

A question I would just like to ask the idiots down at Capitol is what is the point of the Hunger Games? To remind us in the districts of how powerful and superior the Capitol are? Well, I'm sorry to say but all the Games have taught me after watching them for 20 years is that the Capitol are cruel, callous, cold-hearted people who are willing to give those that they are supposed to care for severe mental illnesses, which could've been prevented had the Hunger Games never been imposed on the districts.

Morphling. I'm sure many of you are familiar with this pain reliever. I can guarantee you that there are very few people from District 6 who do not take this drug regularly, or have at least used it once. Most of you are probably thinking that this is a major issue in the district, and it is, but I can also assure you that this particular issue wouldn't exist if the Capitol were not handing out post-traumatic stress disorders like travel brochures. As a sufferer of this disorder for 13 years now, I can confidently say what has caused me to be the way that I am. I'll give you a hint: it involves 24 teenagers in an arena killing each other for the entertainment of snobbish morons.

I began watching the Hunger Games at the age of 6, and as much as I hate to admit it, I actually enjoyed watching them. Hey, I was 6. I didn't know any better. I didn't understand that much to not take everything that was given to me, from the cheering at the tribute parade to the bets placed on who is more likely to have their lives cut too short. I was just told to accept and enjoy it, which I did.

Seven years later, and I had to see my cousin reaped right in front of me. It was heartbreaking and gut-wrenching to see my own father figure and best friend walk up to the stage of the Justice Building of District 6, having to accept the fact that I may never see him again. He wasn't much older than me at 17, but he had still played a significantly large role in my childhood and early youth. My very own father was never there for me and my three siblings. He did not bother to ever help us when we needed it. To me, he was like iodine on the wounds of someone who had been whipped repeatedly; felt like he was helping, but in reality, he was just causing further pain. He had always referred to us as "spawns", not realising what he actually implied until he left us 11 years ago. As unfortunate as I may have seemed, I always knew that I could turn to my cousin whenever I needed it. He had helped my family through a lot and we shared many memories together, so it'd be pretty obvious to come to the conclusion that hearing his name being reaped made me furious to the point where I wanted to destroy the entirety of the Capitol and kill everyone living in that hellhole.

Then came the night before the Games. I sat on my bed, which felt like sitting on a gigantic rock on an ocean shore, trembling and crying in fear until my mother had come in to ask me what was wrong. She was the first, aside from my cousin who was now out of my life, to ask me this question. After finally being open about my deepest concerns, I could breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe he was going to win. After all, his odds were in his favour at 10-1 and did manage to score 10 out of 12 in training, so it seemed promising. Quite a few of the tributes stood out to me that year, which would've made sense because I wanted to see who my cousin was up against. There were the Careers, whom I couldn't miss. Surprisingly, my cousin's odds and training score were higher than theirs, with the exception of the female tribute from 2. Now, that was someone I wouldn't want to mess around with. She had 'danger' written all over her. I was hoping my cousin would not come anywhere near her. Then there were the tributes from 3, who seemed to be more brains than brawn's, something uncommon in the Careers. They were exactly whom I wanted my cousin to form allies with, and he thankfully did, along with the female from 5, his fellow tribute from 6, and the male from 7. Out of all 24, I think the one that caught my eye the most was the female tribute from District 12. I wasn't too sure what it was. Was it the fact that someone as meek as her was unluckily chosen to compete in the 62nd Hunger Games? Or was it the fact that she did not stand a chance? Still remembering her odds at 90-1 and a training score of just 2, as cruel as it may seem, I was absolutely grateful at the fact that it was not my cousin in that situation.

The next day, there they were. The 24 tributes. I could see him standing on the pedestal right next to the tribute whose odds were 90-1. The anxiety had come back. At this point, I was more anxious than my cousin, and it was his life that was on the line! The horn went off and I had smothered my head into the pillow. I refused to watch. Just three hours later, and I heard nothing but 11 cannon shots blasting. I had finally looked up to see whom the fallen tributes were and thankfully, none of them were from District 6. The girl from 12 was apparently gone within a minute, which didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was how much she stood out to me from all the other tributes in the arena. Despite all of what happened that day, I was still unable to watch. Day after day, he was still standing, but I still had to wait until the end of each day for my mother to tell me what had happened.

My cousin was still alive after 6 days, and I thought to myself, maybe he'll make it. After all, there were only 5 tributes left. Miss Intimidating from 2, both tributes from 3, the female from 5, and of course, my cousin. Then I remembered, the heartless gamemakers and their muttations. With just 5 tributes left, at least 1 had to go! Nobody had been killed in almost 3 days! My head was back on that pillow. After hearing the sounds of the growling mutts and agonising screams, my curiosity kept telling me to look up, and I listened. I really wish I hadn't. There he was. My cousin. No longer a father figure, now he was just the mutts' late night snack. No longer my best friend, now the title had to be given to morphling after what I had to witness. 13 years later, and that still hasn't changed. One more recollection of the 19th cannon blast of those Games, and I would visit my new best friend. To think that I had only watched the Games through the screen. Imagine if I was in that dreaded arena myself!

If only the Capitol could actually see all the negative impacts that the Games have had to everyone in the districts, including myself, then perhaps we wouldn't have to engage in a battle for all they have put us under. It's too bad that nobody in the Capitol has a functioning brain! Otherwise we wouldn't have had a Hunger Games in the first place!

Joel.