I owe a huge apology to Suzane Collins because I could have never conceived, in my most hopeful dreams, such a masterful ending. I’m so relieved.
However, the intensity of the feelings that book 3 “Mockinjay” produced on me, hasn’t worn off yet. It reminds me of other times in my life when I came across certain chemicals which produced this awkward feeling of unpleasantness you want out of your system right away, but at the same time they feel so good, so strong, you cling to it and force yourself through the inconveniencies because they reach somewhere deep inside that’s usually numb because you don’t connect with it much. Feelings there, are too powerful.
Yes; I found this story dangerous to my system.
What better praise could I give this amazing writer than saying that reading her saga filled me with an urge to write immediately; to continue the work I’ve been methodically procrastinating for months? But just after a couple of steps towards the computer I woud realize whatever I wrote would be so simple an inconsequential I never typed one key.