So, Mockingjay, the final book of The Hunger Games Trilogy was released a few days ago. I read the first few chapters via e-book, but I saved the rest for this weekend. I'll be passing by the bookstore then, and I'll grab a copy before the stock runs out.
I don't know why, but I'm really sad that this book has just been released. It's almost as if a part of me is dying. I've been a fan of The Hunger Games for about two years now, and over that span of time, I've gotten really close with the characters. They're just amazing people, and to me, they're my friends. Maybe the friendship is a little one-sided, but it's not like I care. They make me laugh and cry and they're awesome either way.
Truth is, I don't want it to end. Maybe I'm being a little too dramatic, but just the fact that the last book of the series is already released means a lot to me. Physics says one way to measure time is to count the events that occur regularly. These book releases have been regular for me for the past couple of years, and I've already counted them. One, two, three.
It's all too sad. It's ending. And I feel like it's strangely symbolic, here. Because, just like The Hunger Games, chapters of my life are ending.
And, just like The Hunger Games, I don't want them to.
