Living on the edge//(Roseh/Aka)Blitz

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My fingers close round the wood in my hand. The rough edges digging into the soft tender skin of my palm. I wince slightly, as I pull the piece of wood toward my body. I bring the piece to eye level examining the texture of the wood. On the outside it was rough, the bark that covered it, shielded it, was firm protecting it, shielding the soft vulnerable wood that lives underneath. Twisting the wood so that my eyes could study the ends I saw that the wood that hide underneath was smooth, soft.

Dropping the piece of wood by my knee my mind wanders, I people were so similar to that piece of wood. Some of us create facades to hide others from the person we really are underneath all this skin, under all these lies. Me for example, I let people believe I am a bitch, a snarky, sarcastic, asshole when really I’m just boy who is lost, who is broken, a boy who, actually under all these lies, under all this skin, layers and layers of masks, is a boy who is sensitive, a boy who want to be loved, who wants to Love. A boy who is broken from the inside out. I have never been someone who is desperate for people to rush to my side to comfort me, but I am also not a boy who people avoid. I just pretend I want to be like that, I pretend that I want people to avoid me, I feel it as a way to atone. A way to atone for the things that I have done. I don’t deserve to be around others when I am a person who is unforgivable.

I reach for another piece of wood, then another until my arms are filled with the little pieces of wood. I pull them away from the stack and drop them in a pile beside my knee, beside the other piece of wood that lays innocently beside me. Once I drop them I haul myself to my feet and head over to where I would find some matches. Instantly I find some and I bring than over to my stack of wood, dropping down again, beside the pile if wood. I didn't need any instructor to know how to light a match. I was from district 6, and I had lighted a match over a million times. Pulling a match out I scratch it head on the rough side of the box, watching as a ball of heat leaps onto the end, smiling I pull it down to the wood and watch as it lights up before my eyes.

A smile forms on my lips, as I watch my piece of work grow bigger and bigger until all the pieces of wood were alights and burning brightly, the heat of the fire flowing into my body, making me feel warm.