Fire. It's a mix of contradictions. Beautiful yet dangerous. A tool of creation, yet a instrument of destruction. Warm and soothing from far away, but scorching to the touch. A work of art, yet a force to be reckoned with. With every beat of my pulsating heart, I generate a fire. A fire of intensity. A fire of zest. A fire of passion. And this fire of my ardent lust for life envelops my soul and forges my psyche. It purifies and extracts the best of me, creating a shatterproof spirit that gleams like a diamond, that springs right back onto its feet when knocked down, that lowers its head and charges at obstacles, shattering them to smithereens. When this fire is harnessed, I am unstoppable, unshakeable, damn near invincible.
But when this fire is fed too much and is allowed to burn waywardly, it consumes me. It engulfs me. It fills my heart with an inferno, raging and destructive. It breeds anger, envy, and at its worst, hatred.
At the same time, I have learned that without this fire, I am nothing. It blazes, quietly but intensely, in the depths of my soul, warming it and giving me purpose and feeling. I love or hate almost everything under the sun with passion. Just know that in my world, hell freezes over with black ice. At my absolute worst, I become a frigid well of sarcasm, cynicism and cold scorn.
Marilyn Monroe once vented a list of her failings, ending with the assertion, "But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve my at my best." I guarantee you that if you get to know me- ALL of me- and accept me for my best AND my worst, my drive will impress you. My humor will warm you (and so will my clumsiness. But that's another story.) My open-mindedness will inspire you. And most importantly, my passion will inflame you.
Let the flames begin.
~*Heat*~
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