A couple of weeks ago, Rachel lent me The Hunger Games trilogy. It took me a while to get back into the habit of reading but I finally finished the first book last weekend and now I've found my pace again and I'm already halfway through book two.
No matter what people say. I am selfish. I know that. I can't be Katniss Everdeen. I don't have her strength or selflessness. I can't marry someone I don't love to ensure the well-being of my family. I thought I was weaker than a fictional character and it's okay because she's not real. But there are Katniss Everdeens in this world. My mother is one of them.
Because, I feel that my situation and worries are nothing compared to the suffering of some people I know, I don't tell my friends anything. Yesterday, I asked my cousin if I could get away with not telling Mark that I would be moving to Wollongong next year.
"Not a chance" He replied. "You're going to bump into him and how are you going to explain that?"
I can't remember the last time I talked to Mark about my life. He promised that he would protect me. But I can't depend on him for happiness. I had to save myself. I had to find an escape myself. Telling him about moving to Wollongong would involve telling him about how I had to endure everything after we broke up. I'm not sure how to do that yet.