Pyrotechnics

Oh god. Here we go again, throwing ourselves into that canyon of expired coupons and pretentious snobs. I have been dreading tomorrow for a whole season. A season filled with something's, someone's, and somewhere's that have genuinely helped me forget my worries. But only for a little while. Now anticipation is knocking at my door and leaving gifts at the doorstep. And anxiety is drumming her fingers close to my heart, causing my pulse to rise and my palms to sweat. And panic is rising in my throat, selfishly holding back my screams. This is my reality, my infinity. It's not beautifully tragic or tragically beautiful. It's not romantic or glorious. It's just sad. I know that our town is full of broken dreams and missed opportunities, and I know that this is where it all starts. It's like I dive into a pit of fire, every year. I keep swimming, the flames licking my belly and charring my feet, until I realize that its too hot. Then I jump out, dowse the blaze. I rest for a little bit and mend my wounds, while my memory of the swim fades. But then I see the pit and the inferno, and I forget about the past, and I jump right in again. And I know I still have those embers glowing inside of me. I just haven't found the courage to put them out.