The fire lashes out, putting my nerves on fire. It smells like burned hair again, and yet my smile lingers, doesn't go anywhere. Again I poke, again the flames try to grab me, I'm faster, sometimes.
.
It doesn't help to be listening to Linkin Park. It still feels good anyway.
I accidentally touch my sweater, and I'm glad it's cotton. Otherwise it would've melted by now, judging by my hand twitching away as fast as the nervous system allows it.
Time flies by with the ashes. It has been a good day, a productive one. A break while waiting for the battles to start. They are waiting. Inevitably. And I'm ready to take them on. My skin is already involuntary depilated, so what the heck.
There are so many points to start from. The obvious one. But where it ends? Barely foreseeable. And that's okay. Gotta stick to my values. That's about all we have.
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