That empty feeling of being finished with a book but wanting more

      It's a funny feeling finishing a book. Most of the time I'm left feeling empty and thirsting for more. My hunger for words is not just a desire to know exactly how everything turned out, not an unquenchable itch from not knowing for sure what happened, but a craving to keep living. I am tangled up in a book when all of the sudden every last page has been flipped and all of the words have been claimed; and ready or not, my life has just dove off a cliff. I am suspended in thin air unaware of what to do with myself before my pencils begin to spend themselves on homework, before my eyelids drift shut at night. For a while I think no book can replace the one I just read. It was perfect, but I hate rereading books so I just have to have faith that somewhere out there, another book is waiting for me. Even so, I never start a new book the same day I finish one. Tonight I will mourn the death of the third Hunger Games book, Mocking Jay. 
      Multiple people have told me they don't particularly like the ending of Mocking Jay, so their opinions may have influenced my own opinion that it was not the best conclusion. I like the end in general, but it was very brief. I like that Katniss finally falls in love with Peeta, I like that they have two kids and live happily ever after, but I think the quality of the writing was rather poor compared to the rest of the book. It felt to me like the author was exhausted and rushed to finally jot down a few words to finish off the book with out much effort. 
     Katniss is finally happy. Her world is finally free. President snow no longer haunts her alive, though he persists to grieve her after he is dead. The capital cannot oppress its citizens anymore, now that the rebels are in charge. But I believe Katniss was the most happy back before she was freed. Of course, after the Hunger Games, her life would be forever scarred and she would have suffered if she had not rose up and led the defeat of the capital. But back when she lived on nothing but her family, Gale, and hunting she seemed to be the happiest, she was the most carefree. Now she has worries, and still will even after her children are grown, because she experienced it all. The last line is "But there are much worse games to play." It seems like life, and living with a burden, and innocence-stripping experiences is harder than competing in the Games.