Burn it all away.

There are those moments in life that merit a little self destruction. Or so I told myself, as my hand snapped back quickly, and the smell of burned hair ascended into my nose. The fire was angry. So was I. Sunday evening. It was been a good day after a great weekend, but it had been a long weekend and I hadn't gotten anywhere with the paperwork needing to be filed against Lily's mom, nor was I able to do any tracking or contacts or anything.

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And despite a great day in the Intag with Ellie, a beautiful Saturday and a productive Sunday, I was frustrated. And I had a lot of old cardboard boxes. And a lot of old and half rotten wood that needed to be taken care of. And so many thoughts that needed attending to. And I still hadn't done my 10k steps. Solution for all of it? Fire.

So there I am. Playing with fire. It's growing and growing, and I can't help but keep feeding it. I walk back to the pile of cardboard in the hallway, grab another, automatically. Open it, put it into the flames like a chimney.

With each one I burn a thought. Just like I sent my hopes and wishes with the water while sitting under the ice cold waterfall in Intag, I now attach all the bad and ask the fire to cleanse it.

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The fire lashes out again, the heat penetrates my skin and lights up my nerves. I smile and remember the many times I got too cocky with fire, the burns in the kitchen, or in the bakery. It's a pain one can get used to. Pain creates resilience. That's what I tell myself.

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I turn the music a little louder, songs from the old days, my old days, Linkin Park and such. Songs that capture frustration well. I go back into the kitchen, open another beer, leaving ash stains behind. Someone will clean that up.

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By the time the alcohol has some effect the fire stopped roaring, and so did I. I already feel better. The cardboard is almost empty, so I go up on the roof to get the old wood. It's a campfire now, not a raging hell of apocalypse.

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A friend comes by with more beer, and I know that this is one of those evenings where I will not restrain myself. We talk about everything but Lily, and I'm grateful for that.

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I sleep like a baby that night. I cleaned up. The waterfall on Friday, the fire on Sunday. Nature has its ways to help.



Thank you for reading!



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A friend, beer and some talk is always good medicine.

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Indeed it is! It's the combination of different types of therapy that bring the success, not a single one.

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Seems like someone enjoy the fire night and trying to give a breath to himself

!PIZZA
!PAKX
!LADY

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Yes, that sums it up. And it felt good!

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(Edited)

Wow, what a beauty! Speechless. ❤️
!discovery

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