Pyromaniac

For as long as I can remember I've had the desire to set things on fire. 

I've created a mental need for it.

I've created a mental want for it.

I needed it.

I wanted it.

I can't help but think of it. Think of burning things until their ash blows through the soft breezes of the day or night. 

My eyes flared with reds and yellows and oranges, as the flames climbed the walls of protection, guarding the tresures inside to really build up the fire. And even sometimes the flames would flicker in blues and green, really lighting up the show of dancing colors and heat. 

The heat. What a gorgeous sensation. It made my blood flow skyrocket, creating an unstable heartbeat that would rush me into adrenalin. It would make me feel like the world was under my feet, and I could rule over it. When I would breathe in the fumes of the racing flames, it would flutter into my lungs making them feel fresh and free. 

While this went on my eyes would shut picturing the huge flames tower over the object of attack. And thats when the fumes would sink into my blood stream, bringing my heartbeat to an accelerated velocity, making me body breathe the life it wanted to, that would help me live the life I wanted to live.

Not anyone's idea of my life. The way I lived game me a certain vivacity. Liveliness. I wanted to feel alive. 

But..

I wanted... No needed to burn things in order to feel like my life was fully lived. 

Watching the ash flakes float around, gave me a feeling that it was beautiful now even though all of it's beauty was stolen from it by the optimistic flames, that would caper around the ashes watching as they turned into dust, that would pollute the air beautifully. 

The sight was gorgeous. 

Simply gorgeous. 

I never understood why people thought fires were so dangerous. 

They were just as beautiful as the golden fields of grain people loved to frolic in. 

Dangerous is a strong word to use.

Secure is better. You can manipulate fire, make it go away, make it preponderant. Yes, preponderant. Very powerful word. 

It's useful too, it keeps bugs away. And make you forget unforgotten ignorance to memories that are petrifying. 

So, I don't see why it's such a big deal then. Who cares if I love to burn things for my sanity.

Ah, sanity. Something with many different opinons. I could go on and on about Sanity. 

The definition of sanity is; The ability to think and behave in a normal and rational manner.

Opinion 1: Behaving in a normal manner, one thing is that just because someone acts as if though one is not "insane" doesn't mean one isn't. 

But many argue, "Well, what if you think in a normal manner too?"

Do we really? We only use a small portion of the brain's full capacity.

Opinion 2: Is there really even a normal and rational manner? Think about it, the defintion of normal could be different than anothers. 

So, technically what I'm getting at is you can't label someone insane for someone's desires, because aren't we all just insane?