Okay, so anyone who's had any real interaction with me in the past year or two knows that 1) I'm head over heels for Finnick Odair and 2) as far as I'm concerned, he's a rockstar (or would have been, if, you know, OTHER THINGS hadn't interfered).
So, picture a kid who's been taught all his life that winning the Hunger Games brings honor and glory to the district and personal fame and fortune to the victor. A kid who's still too young and inexperienced to even have a clue that any of that might not be the case, that things aren't always as they seem on the surface. He gets chosen for the Games at a very young age and he actually wins. People, especially Capitol people, are fawning all over him and it's everything he was ever told it would be, it's enough that it helps him to block out all the fear and horror and pain of the arena and the other kids' lives that bought all the shiny things he has now. And then picture everything that came at him as soon as he hit sixteen and was "of age."
And then listen to what the man who used to be that kid might have written if he wrote a song about it:
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Don't mind me. I'll just be over here in an emotional puddle on the floor, listening to this on repeat.