Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.

The mayor finishes the dreary Treaty of Treason and motions for Peeta and me to shake hands. His are as solid and warm as those loaves of bread. Peeta looks me right in the eye and gives my hand what I think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it's just a nervous spasm.
We turn back the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.
Oh well, I think. There will be twenty-four of us. Odds are someone else will kill him before I do.
Of course, the odds have not been very dependable of late.

Only.. I want to do die as myself

That the Careers have been better fed growing up is actually to their disadvantage,
because they don’t know how to be hungry. Not like Rue and I do.

Let the Seventy-forth Hunger Games begin, Cato, I think. Let them begin for real.

You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers.
"Real," I answer. "Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.