I’m having the absolute worst anxiety. I reached out on Facebook. Everyone has their own way to make themselves feel better. I never feel more at peace than when I am reading enjoyable fanfiction.
This is my first canon fic. It is helping me process.
Katniss went up to her room. She cried about so many things. She cried about her Dad. She cried about Prim. She cried about Rue. She cried about missing Gale. She cried about her Mom. Effie. Peeta. All the turmoil she has been through that was not her choice. She never chose for any of those things to happen to her. She never wanted to feel these feelings. That is what hardening herself was supposed to be good for--not feeling. She didn’t want to feel like she felt when she lost the things she was crying for. Some of them weren’t lost, technically, but nothing will ever be the same.
Being in District 12, in the Victor’s Village, in her big house, all alone except for a stupid cat was the loneliest she has ever been. At least before the war, there was more hustle and bustle throughout the district, even if everyone was going hungry and miserable.
Katniss wailed. She screamed. She breathed and yet, at times, couldn’t catch it. The sadness, the fear, the anxiety was overwhelming. Sadness, fear, anxiety. Over what? Katniss couldn’t figure it out. But the loneliness wasn’t going away. Is this what it feels like to be the only living soul on earth? Is it better to not be than to be alone?
At that thought, Katniss continued her tirade of negativity in her own mind. She was completely against herself and nothing she could do or say to herself would change that.
She needed a catalyst, a catalyst she was in no shape to summon.
Peeta was in his own darkness. Katniss couldn’t put more on him. She couldn’t possibly owe him more than what she already does. She couldn’t take more of him than she already has. She didn’t feel equipped to be the person that he was--patient, caring, kind, empathetic, loving. She tried, but it simply didn’t feel the same as when he helped her.
Yet, as she wept, changing between heaving sobs and weak tears, she heard the door open and the feet treading ever-so-heavily and familiar on the floor of her room. It was less than ten seconds before she felt his arms around her. He didn’t need to ask any questions.
“I heard you. Your window is open. I’m here, Katniss. I’m here.”
That is all he had to say. He had been through it, too, and they switched places. They take care each other. It’s what they do.
