Pyromania and a Love

Part Two

Part Two

I sat there, and just played with the fire on my fingertips. But then suddenly my phone beeped, signaling that it was time to get back to class. So I had to stop my enjoyment and go back for my 7th and 8th period classes. During 7th period I have creative writing, and now we’re working on Expression Through Writing. I don’t really mind it that much, and today we had to write a short piece about how we felt today. I wasn’t going to lie to my teachers…I never did. So maybe they can know about my…special abilities. I trust them enough to keep it a secret and I’m sure that if they want to talk to me about how I feel, they’ll come to me. So, this is what I wrote…

“Today I realized how, truly, different I am from everybody else. I’m not social, unless it’s with my best friend, I don’t live with a family like everyone else, it’s just me, and…I seem to almost go under when I look at fire. I haven’t been diagnosed with anything yet…but I believe I am a pyromaniac. I’m obsessed with it…I have to have it…it’s like the energy that pumps my heart…the blood that runs through my veins…all the little electrical pulses in my brain are occupied by fire. 

But I have a secret…it’s something only I know about…and I cope with it all on my own…but it makes me an outsider. It separates me from everyone else and even defies our physical laws. Speaking of physical, my problem is a physical manifestation… It has to do with fire…of course…and I think it’s time I don’t have to deal with this on my own anymore, but alas, I’m still alone and always have been from the start…”

After I finished writing down my entry…I read over it and everything seemed perfect. It was simply my life on a few lines of paper. But whoever read it…they would know my biography without even having to read a book. 

After my deep 7th period, I went on to my 8th period art class. Now here’s where I can really have fun during the day. I took my seat next to my partner, Anna, and pulled out my sketchbook. On the board, in big, black, letters was the statement, “Pull out a piece of paper and free draw today because you will have a substitute. Don’t give her/him a hard time and behave.” I smirked to myself, quietly, and began to sketch. I started out drawing just some random person from my imagination…but…it slowly became something more than that. In the middle of drawing the face it hit me, head on, “D-Dad…” I had drawn my father… But then suddenly I had an idea spark in my head, and drew another head, neck, shoulder set, and then added a petit nose, medium eyes, and brush-stroked eyebrows. Then I drew the, long, wavy, hair of my mother. She was standing next to father… They were both, very lightly drawn, almost like ghosts.

I walked it up to the substitute and she put it in my folder, like my normal teacher would’ve, and I sat back down at my desk next to Anna. She was drawing some sort of abstract art… It looked like an upside-down world of fragile things. There were steps going every way with glass objects on it and china scattered in places. Anna was very good at what she did, she deserved to be in this class. I always thought she had.

Slowly, I started to sketch again, and this time it was a hand. I was gonna draw a skull in it, but something in my mind told me not to, so I ended up drawing someone’s palm, holding a small ball of fire… It reminded me so much of myself that it was scary. Oh well, the bell just rang and it’s time to head to my locker…but I think I might keep this drawing for myself. When I got to my locker there was an envelope taped on the inside of it and it said, “To Nate” in fancy, cursive, handwriting. “Hm…probably another love letter or something.” I tucked it into my book bag, along with my homework and things of the like, and headed out the door to catch my bus.