Five Little Words

Five little words, that’s all it would take. Five little words and I would change everything. But was I ready for that? Was I ready to make, what would be the biggest decision of my life? Was I ready to take that big of a risk? Every addict has his vice. Every warrior has his Achilles heel.  This was mine, and it was staring at me in admiration; we both knew this time would be my last …

The memory was there long after the accident was over. Even after I woke up, the doctors said I was lucky to be alive. The burns were so severe that they had to keep me sedated for weeks in order for me to heal. The excruciating pain, the agony, I had faced before I’d passed out, was the result of “an accident.” The injury inflicted so much nerve damage that I now have congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis; I can no longer feel pain, I no longer feel anything. They said it could have happened to anyone, but they don’t understand. No one did, I can’t feel them, but I know they are there. The burns will never be hidden, they will never fade, and they will stay with me forever.

“Agony,”

 I test the word on my lips. The sound surprised me; I had not heard my own voice in what seemed like ages. Captivated by the thing which had become my salvation; speaking, breathing even, seems futile in comparison. The face in the mirror I no longer recognize as my own. The activities I once enjoyed no longer have any meaning to me. No music, no laughter, no human contact of any kind. Mornings hurt. Any time away from the entity that consumes me is pure and utter agony. Every breath, though I knew it would feed the intensity of my longing, seemed only a desperate vain attempt to prolong the separation between us. 

Terrified. That’s all I could remember of how I felt that day.  That smell, the distinct smell of gasoline, made me lightheaded and nauseous at the same time. I thought I was going to die. I was so alone, so anxious to get out, but I was trapped I thought I was going to die. That night made me who I’ve become. Back then, I was powerless, and that cost me my old life. I was weak; desperate, not ready to die. I didn’t understand that I was being handed a gift. I made the mistake back then of wanting things to stay the way that they were. I wanted to survive, and I did, and that mistake will stay with me forever.

“Desperate,”

 Yes, I was desperate to be one with the supremacy that fascinated me so.  Like a phoenix that resurrected himself from his own ashes, so I should be, free from the bindings this body tortured me with. Eager to welcome myself into a new life, one in which I would be able to be at ease, I become comfortable with the control I now possess. Reaching into my pocket and reassured as I feel the cool metal brushing my skin beneath my fingertips, I’m comforted with the transformation I have granted to myself. Dousing my arms and legs with the cool clear liquid I have with me at all times, that heady intoxicating smell, clearing my head and filling me with reassurance, I am somewhat astonished with the feelings of power these acts provide me with.

They called it a loss of control. They continued to call it an accident. Where I had lost everything, no one could give me retribution. Where my life was falling apart, researchers were poking and prodding me for answers, ones I couldn’t give them. I had become a lab rat. I was represented as a victim, a casualty, an object of a terrible lapse in judgment; all due to a loss of control. It wasn’t an accident; it was a mistake. An accident could happen to anyone, but a mistake, only the weak had that. I knew there was nothing I could do. Now I refuse to be vulnerable. I will never feel that way again. My weakness has now become my burden. That feeling, helplessness, will stay with me forever.

 “Control,”

 I’d never felt such utter control and authority before I became so devoted to my desires. In succumbing to my impulses instead of suppressing them, I gained the revelation that what I want, what I truly crave, I can construct. Everything that I want is in my power to create. I can produce life and take it away. In abolishing the societal decrees which were mercilessly thrust upon me, I have learned to act as my own god. In altering the creation, I have become the creator. In cheating death, I have gained dominance of the life that I want. The power that the world so desperately craves, I possess.

That night that I saw the light, it saved my life. So free, so enchanting and so beautiful, I knew once I saw it that I was going to be okay. It called to me, found me, and held my body in its embrace. At first, I didn’t even notice I was burning. I wasn’t scared anymore, I was okay, and I felt safe. The light could have taken me that night, but it spared me for another moment. It wanted me to do its bidding. That’s why it gave me its comfort.  The feeling that light gave me that night, that instant of relief that took away my fear, that moment will stay with me forever.

“Beautiful,”

The glow that refracts off the walls around me is magnificent and I stare in wonder and amazement as it begins to consume the surfaces it chooses to claim. Watching as the ultimate warrior leaves pure destruction in its path, I am in awe of the brilliance of which I am but a pawn. Absolute beauty, is the flickering and twisting of the life that I have created, and I long to be a part of its splendor. Walking towards the blaze as its kiss devours the space around me; I am mesmerized by its hypnotic flickers of motion.

Reaching out to become one with its majesty, I become uncertain of my worth in comparison. Who am I, to dare in the slightest to feel as though I deserve to join with one such as this? The thought disturbs me to the point where I hesitate, if only for a moment, before I reach out and trace the glory with my palm. At once, the flames gravitate towards me; their radiance praising me for my devotion as they crawl up my body. The roars of the flames sing to me as they consume the shell that has trapped my soul for so long. I welcome the sensations that flood my body as my questions of how life really felt are finally answered. I wasn’t numb anymore, I was connected with the blaze, I was one with it, and I was completed.  Falling to my knees I utter one final silent prayer of gratitude as I become completely possessed by the fire. With my craving finally fulfilled, and my passions realized, I whisper the last thought I ever have in this body…

“Freedom.”