Burn
I wanted to burn.
Recently, I discovered that I love the numbness that I feel when I drink alcohol. Not the physical numbness. Pinching myself wasn't the most soothing thing.
The kind of numbness that begins from the insides of the cheeks to the veins of my skin that trace back to my heart.
I also discovered that along the numbness, I felt like I was burning. My chest was on fire, and I love it.
I didn't like the sting of alcohol in my throat, nor the taste of it on my tongue.
But my burning chest, I wanted it to stay there to replace the missing thing that I have. I wanted to feel.
Today, I had my first genuine burn. The pain that the scalding pan brought about to my wrist was scream worthy. But once the pan and my skin were detached, I noticed the burning once again. It didn't feel painful. No, it felt alive. I wanted so badly to feel the burn once again, but all that's left is a scar that I do not want to fade and the pan now cold and hung.
I wanted to burn.
Don't misunderstood me.
I do not want to die out of fire, but I just want to feel that burning sensation again. I want the pain and revel of it.
I just wanted to burn.
