the princess diaries iv ♔ diana

Dear sponsor,

I noticed that the flowers from Zion's body were not looking as strong today. Their colour has been fading for days, and partly it is my fault; I should've paid more attention to the fact flowers need water just as much as I do. But, time has taken its toll and turned them to a brown beauty. I still think they are quite beautiful, despite being half-dead, because they have gained a sense of daintiness that comes only with age.

I pray that Zion will forgive me. I did my best and obviously it wasn't good enough; these flowers meant something to him, and even if that meaning was something completely tiny, small and insignificant to the rest of the world—these flowers could have been his world. To think that they represented something beyond a flower, perhaps just life itself, and to think that I've let that go to pot makes me sad. I hope that, wherever he is, he can find it in my heart to forgive me. I hope that his family can; this will be all they will have of him now, other than his body, and these flowers are last things his fingers touched, the last things his heart felt.

Maybe I should have replaced them, but I think that pressing them is better. It is better because it becomes a time capsule in these pages, a moment of the today's present, preserved for the future's history. Even though these flowers are obviously dying, beyond halfway there by the look of it—I think that I have managed to make a good decision in keeping them in this state for the rest of time. The water from their petals may leak onto the page and smudge the ink, it may make the paper sodden and damp... but that's okay. This is my diary, a journal for whoever was kind enough to find it in their heart to sponsor me my own sanity on day one.

My diary, my rules. Just like the real world, I'd rather this be a recollection of my heart than my mind.

I've been thinking. We've had a lot of time to think recently, especially because we've had a day of doing nothing. I'm not sure whether this is a blessing or whether it is a facade. There is always calm before a storm, and I dread to think what the empty skies will bring on tomorrow. I pray for no rain, I have cried too much already, and I hope that the shadows fade into the light and become one with their true selves. No darkness, not anymore—losing Zion and Berlin within a twenty-four hour period has been hard enough on our hearts, my heart in particular, and I'm not sure I could take it if life were to keep on taking.

A day to do nothing sounds wonderful in theory. It can be a time to relax, to find some peace, to recount childhood memories to a friend and sing a lullaby that only your district knows. But I found myself more on edge today than ever before; there wasn't anything in the air, no cannons or no hooves against the ground, no shadows threatening to swallow us whole. The silence was worse than I remembered. Perhaps I have just become so used to chaos that silence feels alien, an intruder in a war that calls for people to be louder than lions.

Hisidro doesn't talk much. It's perfectly fine for him to keep himself to himself, words can be scarier than weapons in most cases. I hope that he knows I am here for him, though. We've seen some dreadful things together, and if I can only offer him a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on, then I think that would be all anyone could ever ask for. I think boys look at the world with different eyes to girls... especially girls like me.

Boys are in their head all the time, thinking about the logistics of a situation. It's almost like they don't have a heart, and I know that they do, but it is mute. Caged away behind their ribs like an animal that will wreak havoc given the chance—but it isn't the case at all. Boys and girls—I think we are all the same, really. Humans: we all have a heart. It's okay to show it. But boys are the type of people to walk into a room and immediately make a mental note of the exits just in case the worse should happen. I suppose that is clever in some ways, but to live life on the edge all the time certainly runs a great risk of falling. And when boys fall, they fall hard—the impact is what makes them men.

I'd like to think that girls like me don't have to fall. Actually, scratch that—I want to fall in love. I want it to be as perfect as it is in books, in the stories we're told as children. Imagine the warmth you'd feel in your soul to know there is someone who takes what you give, and gives back just as much regardless of how much it hurts. Uncompromising, eternal; love, really, is almost everything life isn't.

Yet, somehow when the two come together, they are unbreakable.

Isn't that pretty? I just drew over my thumb and made a heart with the prints.

It's quite strange that it takes losing to make you realise how much you take love for granted. I wonder if the others in the arena are feeling the same. They have seen just as horrible, if not worse, things as I have and that makes you grateful for every ounce of your being because it is just that, and just that is keeping you alive. I think of it beyond that though, my own self isn't contained within my body and I think that things like love, generosity and truth can go a long way given the chance.

That is why I lead with my heart; it resonates with the people who need to hear it, who need to see it most. Putting things into practice is not always perfect and it doesn't have to be... it just needs to set an example.

Perhaps I can follow the example of Zion's flowers and press myself into these pages enough that I'll live forever, just like them. Obviously I would much prefer to be alive as a physical person than have my heart told through the pages of a book—nevermind—I shouldn't even consider anything else other than life. Everything I have been doing so far has worked up until now, and my instinct is singing to me sweetly, telling me to keep on going. My heartstrings play alongside, and it's a simple tune, it reminds me of Seven, but it lulls me into a serenity that makes me feel safe.

These are the Hunger Games, at the end of the day. Safety first...

...but heart just before.