“…our ancestors don’t seem much to drag about… Clearly, they didn’t care about what would happen to the people who came after them.” 

― Suzanne Collins


And there I was, left pondering about this book and how I chose this book to read in a time where I really have no passion or emotion for anything or for anyone left in me. These past few months, I have only been thinking of myself. How I don’t like how my life is turning out, how I feel so alone despite the billions of people in this planet – and maybe a gazillion more in this entire universe and in the other universe and stars, how I succeed to fail in everything. That was my line of thought until I was roused back to reality by the trilogy book, The Hunger Games.

I literally trembled every time something is revealed, I cried for the characters who died. And all this while, I keep reminding myself that this is just a book – no more than a figment of imagination of a person printed in a paper. But I was born clever – it’s in my blood, I know, every time I close those books that it is more than that – more than just a book and a figment of imagination. Like the Harry Potter series – which my whole family probably never understood why I read almost every time I am not reading anything else, it is not just fiction – where the staff of bookstores and libraries keeps organizing them, it is an art, which Pablo Picasso so fittingly described as a lie which makes us realize the truth.

All they were doing was trying to keep themselves alive. Any act of rebellion is purely coincidental.

-Hunger Games

This part struck me the most. It was written in the first book. I still tremble whenever I read these words. Because, even here, today, it’s true – it’s happening. Every morning, I wake up and hear the morning news. More deaths, more robberies, children are being used – I don’t like it, who would? I really think that people would only kill as a last resort, when nothing could ever be done without doing so. Hired-killers, no matter how much I hate them for killing someone they don’t probably know – whether they feel remorse to their deeds, I’m not sure. But one thing is for certain, they are doing this because it’s the only thing they can do – to save themselves or someone they love.

Poverty. It is the source of evil. Not money. People always think that money is the source of evil, because it can turn things around, but if you really think about it, money is either just a piece of circle or paper. I never really was a fan of money but still, I needed it. So, it is really not the money I needed, it was the thing I can trade for money is what’s important.

I can imagine a person, hesitating about making his first crime and makes his resolve because of someone or something worth doing the crime for. No, I’m not saying that we should forgive their crimes that easily – no one has the right to forgive nor can we, humans are made unforgiving – it’s the truth, live with it. No matter how much we tell the victims to just forget about it, it’s impossible. If you were the victim, would you be able to forgive someone who has taken something from you probably forever that easily? Your future? Your love? Your life? No, I guess not. That is why, I am certain that the phrase forgive and forget is nothing more than a hoax, something (imperfect) people made up. We are not God. We are just humans, we cannot forgive nor forget that easily. Unless, we do forget and that doesn’t count as forgiving as well.

Say someone stabs someone you love to death in front of you – someone you really love had died in front of you and you happen to be the only witness to that crime. You know who did it, you know why he did it, would you be able to forgive the person who killed someone you love or even forget that scene? I bet you would lie awake every night trying not to have a rerun of that scenario in your dreams over and over. Would you be able to forget? Or forgive? No, you wouldn’t. Admit it, you won’t. Because even though wounds heal, it leaves a scar.

I remember someone telling me that the only way to conquer your fear is to face it – or be it. I was once afraid of hunger that I always cry whenever I’m hungry, but as I grow up and see a lot of hungrier mouths and whose stomachs are as hollow as a black hole, I don’t cry for food anymore – at least not in front of those people. I just occasionally whimper in front of my family for fun and habit (the habit of self-pity that I try to get rid of since I started realizing.)

I remember my family having a conversation about it once, why do thieves steal and why do killers kill, my parents’ answer never changes, it’s because they can’t help it – it’s the only thing they know how to do and is prepared to do. I think, the reason why a (real) criminal is so afraid to go in jail is because the reason/s why he did what he did is somewhere out there waiting for his/her return, hungry, helpless, in desperate need to survive rarely is because of themselves.

If the thieves don’t steal, they’ll starve and die. Same goes for all the criminals and their crimes. If they don’t do what they do, they’ll starve and die. These are the people that would rather be a criminal than watch their loved ones die. For me, the most painful death is dying in hunger. For the poor, I can feel empathy emanating from my body, their crimes are tolerable if I am comparing them to the rich people and to them, I feel nothing, not even compassion. Because, while the poor people have no choice but to be criminals, the rich people choose to be criminals because it blocks them from something they want – power, money, or whatever they think is important. The lives of people they will damage probably beyond repair after they’ve done their crimes doesn’t matter – never did. I probably am being too one-sided about this matter and being too judgmental to the powerful. Well, you can’t blame me, I have to take sides, don’t I? I’m not rich nor poor, I am somewhere in the middle that is what gives me the freedom to decide which side I’m going to support. And, I’ve seen proofs.

“We fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice.” 
― Suzanne Collins

These are my last words for this blog. Although I can’t put into words my emotions and the things I want to say right now, you can definitely bet on it, I am back. And whenever you feel that I’m losing it again, you can just say, “Hunger Games” and I promise to be with you shortly.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” 

2 thoughts on “The Hunger Games – and what it meant to me.

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