The glowing speck of ember falls to the floor. I step on it to put it out, and it scorches the sole of my bare foot. The incense -- a seductive rose -- burns a brilliant orange before crumbling away like ash. Touch it, it burns. The most extraordinary sensation of living. Most find it an unpleasant feeling, but to me, it is revitalizing. Love and sorrow cloud the perception of senses, but the privilege of pain, baking flesh within a thousand roman candles, is the closest one can get to life.
--
I've been killing myself by not writing every day, which has subsequently put me in a massive stroke of writer's block. Finally, I wrote this short piece a few minutes ago, surrounded by lots of candles and incense. You can sense the personality of a writer just by observing their style. I've noticed I've written a lot about fire, which I guess means I'm a closet masochist/pyrotechnic. Haha. But I really like the idea that I captured in this -- about pain being the essence of life. I think I'm going to expand on it more. It was basically inspired by something Criss Angel said in an episode long ago, I can't find the actual quote online. It kind of stuck with me.
So yeah, there you go. Enjoy!
