Lifes Red Strings

A Burning Pain

I did it again.

On accident? Perhaps.

On purpose? I don't know.

I hiss in pain as I once again burn my hand on the hot surface. Some times I do it on accident, others, not so much. But no one is there to stop me. I sigh as I feel my flesh shrink and dry into a hard, burning surface. I lick the burn and hiss as my saliva hits my newly burnt skin. It was painful, but it made all my thoughts disappear into one, "Pain". I didn't like doing this, but some times it just happens. I finish cooking and eat what I had made, lifting my burnt finger as I ate. I sighed and left the room, once again alone. I grabbed my matchbox and grabbed a candle, a metal pot, some paper I don't want to see again, and a few pictures I don't want. I set the pot on the stove and roll up some paper, striking a match and lighting the end of the paper. I feel the corner of my mouth twitch upwards as the fire consumes the paper. I drop it into the pot and I drop in more items, inhaling the scent of smoke and feeling the heat hit my face. I toss in a few matches and watch as they explode in the flame as they ignite. I put my matchbox back into my hoodie pocket as I reach out my hand, feeling the warmth from the flames. I quickly touch the fire and I look down at my fingers, feeling the hard skin. The flame felt soft and gentle, yet burning and painful. Such an odd combination. I inhale deeply and exhale, smiling as I watch the flames dance around. I loved it, yet I didn't know why. After a few minutes of burning, I sigh and toss out the ashes and light up the pieces that survived the fire. I wash the pot till it smells normal and I light incense to make the smell of smoke disappear. I don't want to get caught. I tap my lips twice as I ponder what to do next. I remembered to quickly hide my one of three matchboxes back under my bed and to make some food for myself. I glance at the clock and sigh.

Why can't I have more time to burn more?

​​​​

*This was a true story about me*