No, I understand that you are a book character. I know I’m not really talking to you. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t real.
You’re real to me.
Your name makes me smile.
Your words make me think.
I’ve studied you.
I know you.
We think similarly, you know.
They tease me sometimes.
I get defensive actually.
I don’t know.
He’s not real.
But you’re one of my best friends.
You saved me that time in the Games. Do you remember? I was being chased, and I was calling to you. And I found you. I’ve won with you twice now. Sure I’ve been asleep, but it doesn’t change the fact that you were there with me. You were there for me.
I can’t figure out how to describe it.
I spend so much time imagining you.
I’ve spent hours contemplating your words.
I understand you so well. So much of what you do and say makes such perfect sense to me.
I spend so much time thinking about you...
But I still can’t figure out how to describe what I feel.
Yes, I know to society you’re fictional. I’m not arguing with that. I’m just saying, to me you’re something more.
What I feel is unique. I don’t expect anyone to fully understand, because I don’t fully understand myself.
I feel like you when when you said, “Does that make any sense?”
Does that make any sense?
But you’re one of my best friends. You’ve changed me.
Even though it sounds stupid, I know it’s not. You mean something to me.
One day, maybe I’ll know how to describe that.
The Boy With the Bread.
An iconic character. The whole world knows who he is.
But quietly, I think I know you best.
Inspired by The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins.
A huge THANK YOU to Anne Blackwood for showing me that it’s okay for me to embrace the things I’m passionate about even if most people don’t understand them. Go say hi to her!