I Am Done Putting Out Your Fires

You light matches like its your hobby. Flicking them away carelessly. Some fizzle out into little piles of ash, harmless and unnoticed. Others start an uncontrollable blaze, taking down everything in its way. I imagine you must get some kind of sick pleasure out of these damaging fires. You stay to watch them burn and even stoke the flames. Perhaps the warmth of the flames is the only warmth you can find. I pitied you at first, but I have seen you reignite every fire that got put out. Rekindling the ashes desperate to find one more spark. Hoping for one last opportunity to be rescued.

To any passerby, you look to be burnt by the flames and you know how to work it. Even with the absence of any burn marks, you spin stories about the damage the fire has done to you and your desperate attempts to put it out. Make sure you kick the can of gasoline, now empty and incriminating, far enough behind you that no one sees. You bleed the situation dry, making every attempt to keep the flames going. Joining the rebuilding efforts only to turn around after everyone has gone and trash it all. Tearing any hope of a brighter tomorrow to the ground and throwing another match on the already burnt debris. No remorse, no responsibility.

You project an air of happiness and put on a mask for the world. All the while hiding the bitter rage flowing through your veins. Threatened by any flower that blooms brighter than you, you walk the forests of life looking for your next target. Maybe its because you never learned how to make friends so you put your guard up quickly and aim to destroy what you think could harm you. Maybe you thrive on the destruction of the things around you. Do you feel whole when no one is looking at you? Or are the validation of people you barely know and the surge of power knowing you harmed someone else the only things that get you off?

You flicked a match my way several times. The first few were stomped out quickly, virtually unnoticed. Your foiled attempts became an obsession. A thirst to come out on top in this battle you are waging. It has become a cycle. Throw the match, stoke the fire, pretend to put it out, light it again. Are you getting dizzy from going in circles? I think you deserve a rest. I think we should let this fire burn itself out.

I hope you feel like you are on top of the world. I hope you got everything you could have ever wanted from the attention of those coming to your aide. We watch each other from opposite sides of the fire now. You are grinning a sinister smile, amplified in the flickering lights. I am smiling on the inside despite the burns that cover my body. You may have come out of this unscathed to the naked eye, but can you feel the eyes around you starting to stare? The cracks have started, and your stories are not as believable as they once were. The flames do not burn as bright. You will survive, though. No one wants to harm you. They simply observe your behavior with a more watchful eye now. Letting you have your imaginary world is easier than waking you from it and pulling you back into reality. You are noticeably too fragile to carry the weight of your actions so they let you live in peace with the hope that one day you will wake up on your own.

My smile is not the same as yours so do not be fooled. My smile is a badge of honor that marks a feat of survival. You could not kill me. Even now as you kick sparks towards me in hopes I will ignite in a fiery blaze, I am alive. So, keep flicking your matches my way. I will be ready to endure the fires you try to light. In all your desperation to destroy, you seem to have forgotten a beautiful and wonderful fact. When a forest burns, it regrows stronger and more resilient than ever before, rebuilding itself from the ashes.