4th December
Sometimes I feel like fire, not in the sense that I burn in rage but that I destroy and dirty everything I touch. That the charred soot left by my fingers will remain long after I am gone. That the marks I leave will take years for people to repair, for them to forget.
Other times I feel like the fire doesn’t burn hot enough, that the rage and passion i once felt is gone. Left in its place is an empty shell.
I wish I knew how to regulate my fire, if there even is a way or if this is all in my head and I’m over thinking.
Perhaps I’m too self important.
Perhaps I’m mistaking ice for fire, that the burns I leave are frost bite.













