It’s 2 AM right now and thoughts abandon me one by one, until the only thing I’m left with is the complete darkness that envelopes me, illuminated only by the light from my Phone. Scrolling through old photos I start to burn up. I can feel the smoke replace my blood. I couldn’t feel my hands. I didn’t realise that I’d fallen from my bed onto the hard floor. I couldn’t scream. My system was befouled. More than anything I was confused. I felt like a log in a bonfire. I was a log in a bonfire. I could see the people sitting around me, singing songs, loving, eating, smoking. Smoking. I felt like a cigarette. No, I’m not a log. I’m alive. Alive and burning.
I could suddenly see all the monsters under my bed. Looking at them, I didn’t feel the horror I should have, but I felt sangfroid. The monsters were busy with the stresses of their own life. The most basic of emotions felt so far away from them. Somehow they reminded me of every person living on this world. They looked more real than most as well. Oh, the agony.
Time stood still. A minute felt like a month. A month of wreckage and calamity. My organs played tunes I couldn’t comprehend; my head was screaming, the monsters started to laugh at me, every bird and squirrel was at my window screeching and clawing at my window. Then suddenly it all stopped. Everything just stopped. Silence. I never felt more alone.
I was on fire. I could still see the fire. I let it burn. I was too tired. I felt like a toast left in the toaster for far too long. I checked the time, 2:02 AM. My god, I felt like a war veteran coming back from the shortest war ever fought. A war with myself. Every limb hurt, every breathe felt like my last. Never had I appreciated my life more.
I’m used to the fire now, forever burning. I live as an eternal flame now. Always burning but always on the inside. I don’t know what it means. Nothing probably. Nothing.