Playing With Fire

The problem with playing with fire is the promised pain of the eminent burn. You know it's going to happen, you know it's going to hurt like hell, and you may even brace yourself for it....but the glow of juggling flaming bowling pins is too mesmerizing to make yourself stop.

I am playing with fire.

As a child, I suffered from a case of juvenile masochism: I picked the skin off my scabby knees, poured freshly melted bubbly wax on my skin just to let it dry and peel it off to leave a red mark, and stole needles from my grandmother's sewing room to prick and poke myself until I bled....sometimes you just want to bleed to know you're alive.

As an adult, I have suffered heartache, pain unnecessary and possibly avoidable, but a direct result of life happening. Living is a fire. Those who cease to exist are extinguished, and often forgotten.
True love is an eternal flame that never burns out....even if  on person has to go on loving alone for the rest of a lifetime that should have been shared. Life isn't fair. It's messy and painful.

I'm making the most of it, LIVING, and attempting to go to bed every night feeling spent after having woken up and having made sweet love to my day for twelve hours straight (HOTT!) and knowing at the end as I close my eyes to rest that I did the best I could to look at myself and make a change. (CUE: Michael Jackson's MAN IN THE MIRROR)


Today, I made a person know they can count on me.
Today, I made one person smile.
Today, I made three people laugh.

I did absolutely nothing.....and absolutely everything all at once, in that to five people, I made an impact. Five people are going to bed right now, and I'm on their subconscience mind...I'm a person that changed their day for the better and not the worse, and that's something to be damn proud of.

I've been so busy the past two weeks, I've (almost) been too busy to realize the true reality that is my life. I'm falling more madly in love with my friends by the minute (about 4 of them in particular) that are rocking my world these days by just being alive, and in mine, and are rapidly improving my quality of life. Chats with these people and REALLY laughing to where I can't stop and my side hurts are the best of the best things in life.

I am playing with fire.
I am likely to get burned.


And I don't care...because life is for the living, and damn it, I'm alive.


Somtimes I think I want it to be smooth sailing from here on out, just me all alone...but let's face it:
I'm still a soft core masochist,  and I'm hitting myself in the head with a hammer, because "it just feels so damn good when I stop."
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