what I told the doctor the tenth time.
this body is burning and there aren’t any smoke alarms and I am ok with burning. I tell him it’s ok to let me burn. I tell him there’s been a drought for so long that the forest fire inside of me was inevitable. I tell him I have grown used to burning. have grown used to the way it feels that I don’t know who I am without it. if I am not the girl on fire, than who am I? the girl drowning? I tell him no, I’d rather burn than drown. I tell him who wants to drown? I tell him I’ve spent so long without air that I forget to breathe now. I tell him I’ve spent so long drowning that the fire is welcome.
he asks me what’s so wrong with drowning?
I tell him drowning is not like coming home, prior to contrary belief. I tell him drowning is waiting for something that’s never going to come. I tell him drowning isn’t fighting. I tell him it’s the fear of burning. I tell him I’d rather fight for my destruction than wait around for it to come. I tell him I am angry and I am burning and I will not go back to drowning. I will not return to being that helpless girl again. I tell him too many people hurt me while I was drowning and maybe that’s what ignited my fire.
he asks me who hurt me?
and I ask him who hasn’t? I could write you a list of names but I would never stop writing. I tell him the person that’s hurt me the most is me and I cannot run from that. I cannot continue to hide from that. I tell him to let me burn. let me fucking burn. I tell him it’s better this way. I tell him do not extinguish me. I will not go back to drowning. I will not allow the water back into my lungs. I will no longer feel that agony.
he asks isn’t burning agony?
I say isn’t everything?
he says, but more so this?
I say maybe but it’s a different agony. my body is fire and I engulf the ones that touch me but it’s safer for me here. safer than when I was drowning. I will not go back to drowning.
he asks me if I am scared.
I tell him isn’t everyone? in their own way, isn’t everyone scared?
he tells me no. not everyone.
I tell him yes. everyone.
he tells me he cannot let me keep burning. something’s going to give one day and he cannot let it be me.
I say let it be me. I’ve done my time. I’m ok if it’s me.
he tells me it doesn’t work that way. tells me he has to take my armor away. that he has to stop the burning. that he promises to keep me from drowning.
I tell him to fuck off but he does it anyways. douses the flames. gives me pills instead. gives me sutures instead. gives me a inpatient stay instead.
and I wonder if this is how the angels felt when they fell from heaven with wings ripped away from them. my destruction was my wings. and he had held me down and stripped me bare and sent me away.
I go back to drowning.
(I could write you a list of names but I would never stop writing)
