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Unapologetically Blinding

I'm inexplicably fascinated with fire. No, I'm not a pyromaniac, and no, I don't need help. But something about a flame calls to me - compels me to let its light consume me. So much so that I almost let our home burn to the ground as a child.

If one really thinks about it, flames aren't that all that different from us. They have layers of their own. Different shades, different ferocities, different personas. Laser-focused in times of stability, unwavering and steady; but introduce an aberration and watch them dance in their uncertainty. And yet, for all their variations, the core remains the same - deep, profound, venerable.

Single-use plastic crumbles in face of fire. A flower get charred. Gas violently explodes, engulfing everything in sight in a raging inferno. And a cooking pan withstands it everyday with an imperceptible consequence. Fire is remarkably unbiased. It treats everything the way it deserves to be treated - rewarding the resilient, and incinerating the incompetent.

What I'm most attracted to though, is the intensity. The passion. The warmth. The spirit that is so giving that it burns itself to provide warmth to its thankless patrons. An essence so welcoming that it bewitches the most apathetic onlookers. A luminescence so bright that it enlightens its audience with the truth. A soul so pure that it makes you want to jump in and become one with the fire, washing away your immorality and embracing its empyrean glory.

I like to think that the liaison between fire and air is one of the greatest unrequited love affairs humankind has had the privilege to witness. The founding elements of the Universe, both are omnipotent in their own right. And yet, by some mystical design, fire was forever cursed to have its life depend on the air surrounding it. Eventually, the imprecation turned into a proclamation of its yearning, and fire blazed in air, with its graceful form and its irrefutable chemistry, confessing its devotion in burning poetry.

I'm not a pyromaniac, and I don't need help. But something about a flame calls to me - compels me to let its light consume me. To let it ravage my being, take possession of my heart, and spark the kind of unbridled wildfire the world can't take its eyes off of.

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Grateful and more, yes, but fuck my life.


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