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Fire
by Madison Shaddox I was once told before that people are born with minds and bodies made of gold, luminous but full of impurities, and that when we begin our lives, we are exposed to a fire that burns these imperfections away. It is a nice platitude full of pretty words, but burning alive has never been called pleasant. When life is easy, there is a fire in my body, burning in my muscles as I dance, leaping and turning in front of the mirror until my oxygen burns away. I ignore the scorching in my muscles because of the flame in my chest that reminds me that I am determined to succeed. This fire has driven me to the places I had imagined for myself. This is what has taught me to burn beautifully, my limbs dancing like the tongues of the flame. There is another fire that I have learned to live with whose dull flame scorches my skin with a ferocity that I cannot explain. The flame in my head put a tremor in my hands and a hesitation in my voice. I have tried to speak it out of me or extinguish it with water and pills, but the spark is always there. This fire has burned holes in my life, a barrier in front of my friends and family. A bed of hot coals has been placed between me and the rest of my life, but I tread with bare feet and a steady step. I will not be deterred. I have found that one fire can easily overtake another, and sometimes I feel helpless as I stand and watch them burn, but it is my choice which flame will expire. I will dance in the flames, but they will not burn me away. I was once told before that people are born with minds and bodies made of gold, luminous but full of impurities, and that when we begin our lives, we are exposed to a fire that burns these imperfections away. It is a nice platitude full of pretty words, but burning alive has never been called pleasant. |
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