BURN.

I wonder how it can be so easy to hide something so big from the people closest to you. I touch my cheeks and poke at my collarbone. They ache quietly. I’m a little shocked at the reflection in the mirror. It looks just like me but darker, quieter, and a sort of confused kind of evil; the kind which has no clue what the hell it’s doing most of the time—compulsive, out of control—though, fierce.

The small flame barely lit in my eyes. The fire and smoke inside of me resembled the tail of a Charmander about to go out. I smile and look a little crazy, but sometimes you have to be crazy enough to keep going, until your life is, in fact, yours again.

One must always ask if the sight of beautiful flames is worth the burn. It’s easy to start a fire, but not so easy to put out.

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