An All Too Familiar Fire.

He burns alive on a frozen lake. As snow-covered mountains with their jagged peaks tear apart the sky and a woman reaches out to him from the far shore. She stares at his form in the fire, a man barely balanced on melting ice with death approaching, he should be running, he should be panicking, but he just stares sadly at his hands.

I wonder why she bothers staying as his skin blackens and peels away and he can no longer fight. Perhaps her head and heart pin her to the shore, despite knowing she can do nothing. The ice can't hold her weight and she'll only burn herself trying to play the heroine. She's not the first one to come here and watch the man slowly burn alive, to see him in extreme pain yet stand perfectly still. She's not the first to watch the water lap over his feet, extinguish the fire, watch the burns begin to heal, only for a spark to set them alight again. The torture just replays itself over and over again while he lacks the strength to swim away. So why does she stay?

If you'll forgive the intrusion on your time I'd like to offer you some of my thoughts on the matter. At first, I thought it was some sort of sadistic exercise, that she got pleasure out of his pain. She could call herself stronger, smarter, cleaner, or whatever else than this pitiful fool whose saving grace is just below him. There's a fair share of other people who've carried their superiority here. However, her eyes betray her.

She stares at him through red eyes and what I saw wasn't pleasure, but hunger, longing, a bit of anger, but mostly sadness. She had tried to reach out, almost drowned doing it. Until she was beaten by the terrible realization that there are some things in this world stronger than their love. That no matter how much love she gave, or how much he heard, she can't squander Me.

Yes, I am that fire. I am the Heroin sent to falter and inflame people across the land. I am the reaper who comes for fathers, sons, mothers, daughters, friends, lovers, and all other manner of man. From the careful matriarch to the desperate cur. I roam trailer parks, farmland, inner cities, and even those clean little suburbs. I'm born from injuries too painful, a loss too heartbreaking, or by simple chance. Some escape it, with only a few burns but more will falter, turn to ash, and fall to the icy depths.

You may think it's only the pitiful fool who falls from grace, but wouldn't you want the heat if you were trapped in the middle of a frozen lake? Couldn't you overstep your stride and end up where you don't belong? If you look past the burns and the fire, your skin, and your beautiful eyes are the same. But that hurts you to think about that loss, doesn't it?

Ah but I digress. I'm sure you want to know what happened to this particular man on the ice. The woman bit her lip for some time until she couldn't help but shout "Peter" across the frozen lake. To my surprise, he looked toward her, like a wanderer finally home. He took two steps forward, winced, then kneeled, until finally, succumbed to the fire, taking one leap into the void. Leaving that girl to stare at the expanse where a fire as bright as a star died.

If you or a loved one are suffering from a mental health or substance abuse disorder, please contact mental health professionals or go to SAMSHA for more information on how to get help. 1-800-662-HELP (4357) - National Help Line for SAMSHA

1-800-273-8255 - National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.