Reading The Hunger Games gets me all worked up, y’all.
Because I want to be Katniss or Peeta or Finnick out there doing these crazy courageous things. I really want to be Katniss—for one because I think I’d be a little more aware of what’s going on than she is (Wake up, kid!) and for another because she doesn’t really have to kill any one who isn’t totally odious and then finally because of the clothes (That mockingjay dress is insane!). I’d be satisfied to be Peeta, I guess. He doesn’t have to kill anybody and he paints and frosts cookies.
Anyway, the point is, I read one of those books and I start praying things like, “God, make me a warrior of light.” or “God, use me to spark a rebellion among Your people.” or “Empower me to see my oppressors for who they really are. Do not let me be deceived.”
I doubt this is the end Suzanne Collins imagined for her readers, but this is where she’s taken me: Light warrior-hood.
God bless me.