I’m not exaggerating when I say this—the acclaimed “Hunger Games” trilogy, despite being about the oppressive nature of a tyrannical government and kids killing each other in a sadistic televised tournament—absolutely defined my middle school years. When I say I was obsessed, I was obsessed. I read the first two books hundreds of times. (We don’t talk about “Mockingjay.” It did not happen . . . still emotionally scarred.) I invented backstories for every single tribute in the 74th Games through at least six poorly written Quotev fanfics. I pledged to ship Cato and Clove until the day I die and entered a state of depression when I discovered their love story was completely erased from the movies (still salty). Katniss Everdeen was my hero and I am in love with Finnick Odair to this day. I clearly remember that, at an eighth-grade pool party, my friends and I played Categories and my first question was: “Who’s your favorite movie character?” I leaped into the pool and screamed “Clove!” and everyone judged me for liking the knife girl. That illustrates the severity of my obsession.