Playing with Fire

Yeah. This a long one. Sorry.

Lately, I've been rethinking a lot of things in my life. By the end of this week, I'll have decided where I'm going to college. I've even decided to keep my phone off, to a certain extent, in order to re-prioritize things correctly. I'm going to keep to myself, with the exception of a few people, this spring break.

For the last two nights, I've sat next to an open bonfire. The first night was just me and Aleks sitting outside his house talking about everything. Just me and my oldest best friend -- without a single care in the world. That's literally all we did. Just sit and talk and make fun of each other and laugh. And for some reason, it was the most refreshing night that I've had in a while. We didn't have to care about anything. We didn't have to worry about the uncertainty of the future or the regrets of the past or the pressures of the present. There were no lies, no expectations, no confusion, no stress, no drama, no one telling me what to do, no lectures, no yelling, no anger, no hurt, and no pain. For once, I didn't feel the need to beg someone to tell me that everything was going to be okay. I didn't have to think about how much I wanted someone to tell me, "You'll be okay." For once. I let my guard down. And for once: I felt safe.

The second night, I came home from church drama/dance practice and decided that I wanted to sit by a fire again. Earlier that day, my mom and I had talked A LOT of things through. I told her everything that she suspected that I was holding back. And she didn't judge me or hate me. She listened to me talk for over an hour about everything that I felt. I told her about all of my flaws and issues. That's a whole different story though. Back to the topic at hand -- we decided to buy a fire pit. I've always wanted one, so this is part of my graduation gift. I get to invite friends over whenever I want, as long as I keep up my end of the bargain.

So anyways, the second night, it started out with me sitting outside by myself. No music, no words -- just me. Soon, however, my dad came out to join me. He went in shortly to take a shower, but he came back out and rejoined me. This was the first time, in several years at least, that I've had a night like this with just my dad. We just talked and talked and laughed for hours. He told me some stories, after I begged him, and he also talked about some of the dreams that he used to have. We talked about college, as usual, but it was different this time.

And as we were talking, my dad was keeping the fire alive. He shared with me some tips about starting and maintaining fires. The more he talked about fires, however, the more I started to compare it to things in life. And while I was thinking about that, my dad literally said, "It's kind of like things in life."

So, that being said -- here is my long metaphorical rant comparing fires to things in life.

Fires are like relationships. (Don't you dare roll your eyes at me.)

Fire has always fascinated me. Ever since I was a little kid, there has always been something magical about it -- the way it never looks the same for more than a split second, the smell of the smoke left on my clothes, the crackling sound that calms me, the warmth of it burning close to my body, everything.

For those of you who like lists, I will proceed to make the rest of this blog post into a long list.

1. The beginning:

Every fire has to start somehow, obviously. Some start with an instant spark. Some start from hours of labor (for those who use the traditional techniques). Some start with help from things such as gasoline or whatever else.

The beginning to every fire is crucial. Some fires are harder to start than others. But in the end, if you have a fire that can keep you warm, all of the hard work and effort is worth it.

2. The spark:

No, this is not the same thing as the point before it. Shut up. Anyways, the initial spark doesn't determine what the fire will be like in the long run. Just because there was a great spark doesn't necessarily mean that the fire will be strong. A fire is like a relationship, because you have to constantly tend to it and feed it to sustain it. There can be period of times where it can sustain itself -- but the fact of the matter is, neglect will eventually lead to the fire slowly dying.

3. The heat:

This part's kind of obvious. Fires make you feel all warm and fuzzy -- just like good relationships. Even if you feel down or cold, the closer you get to the fire, the more you start to forget. Even when you don't have your own blanket, the fire can keep you warm. When your body can't sustain its own heat, the fire does it for you. That's partly what fire's are for. They're there for the times when you need them.

4. The light:

A good fire burns brightly. A good relationship helps you see the important parts in your life in order to find what you need, make the right decisions, and etc. The dimmer the fire, the harder it is to see what is real and what isn't.

On the other hand, sometimes the brighter it starts to burn -- the more scared we get. Fire is powerful. And sometimes, we're afraid that we won't be able to control it. We fear that it will become reckless. But that's the thing -- it's FIRE. It's natural to feel intimidated by it. Just like relationships. But if you want it bad enough, that's when you start to take the risk. You know the dangers, but you start one anyways. Because you know in the end, it'll be worth it. Or sometimes, we need it. We need that light to help us see. We need that heat to help us feel.

5. The space:

Now, here's the tricky/slightly ironic part. In order for a fire to be able to burn strong, there needs to be space. There needs to be space for air. I believe relationships are the exact same way. Sometimes, we're just so desperate for that fire to burn that we try to suffocate it. We try to force so many things on it -- and ironically, it makes it die faster. We don't have bad intentions, but it still ends up harming the fire. People need space, just like fires do. Piles of firewood have that right amount of space that they need. Too much space means that it can't sustain itself; too little means that it slowly chokes itself. You have to communicate with the fire and get a feel for it in order to know what the healthy amount of space is.

6. Never gone:

This is similar to some of the other points. While Dad and I were sitting outside, it got to a point where I thought the fire was almost dead. I stated, "Aw, it's almost all gone." Dad replied with, "No, it's not. It's never gone. Even if the top of the ashes and whatever else might make it seem like it's gone -- it's not. It's always still there. You just have to put life back into it." He got up from his seat and messed with the "fire" a little bit. He added more wood. He shifted some things around. He carefully blew on it. He waited patiently. He kept repeating these steps. And sure enough, the fire came back -- and was blazing stronger than ever.

Sometimes, relationships can seem like that. They seem burnt out and dead. We don't feel it as strongly as we did before -- so we assume that it's over. We assume that it will never be the same. We just watch it die and think about how strong it once was. We doubt what it could be capable of. We shiver and miss it, but we don't bother doing anything about it. Instead, we silently watch as every little trace of it disappears until we're left with the ashes.

But that's the beauty of relationships (and fire): we can bring it back. Just because it seems hard doesn't mean that it's impossible. It's always there. Even if it seems incredibly close to the end, we can bring it back. You have to work at it. Some people are easier to let go of than others. But I know there are people in my life who I have almost let them go out completely. I decided that I don't want that anymore.

If you know who you are, this is directed towards you: I'll never let our fire die out. I don't care how much I have to go out and gather wood. Or spend my time and energy keeping it alive. Or whatever. I don't care. All I care about is whether or not you're in my life. And I know we fight. And I know things seem hard. And I know that the future seems confusing and uncertain. But I don't care. If you want to keep pouring water on the fire, go right ahead. But I'm going to keep trying to make it burn bright. I promise. Because I want you. I want to feel you next to me. I'm done trying to pretend like I don't feel it slowly dying. I know that it's getting harder to keep it going. I know that we keep poking at it and testing it -- just to see its limits. But, you and I both know that it's taking a toll on it. And it's harder to bring it back to where it originally was each time. We used to just sit by it and watch it grow, but somehow, things changed. It's like we got bored or something and started to mess with it. We constantly play with it, and we get burned. We can't keep doing this. Well, technically, we could. But I mean, come on. I don't want that. I want it to blaze all the time, full force. And yeah, this is super cheesy. But whatever, you know you like this kind of stuff. Actually, you probably don't even know that this is directed towards you. I don't even know if you're reading this. Oh well.

Sorry. Moving on. (How the heck did I get that far off track?) (I guess I was just "on fire"...hahaha get it?..... Gosh, I'm so lame.)

Actually, you know what? I think I'm done. Mainly because it's now 1:07 A.M. I can't think about anything anymore. I'm so tired. I won't publish this until tomorrow -- since I'm supposed to go back over to Aleks's and spend the night there. I might add more stuff after my third bonfire this week. Three fires in a row for three nights? Gah, I needed this.

Update: It is now 7:52 P.M. on the following day. I'm about to head to Aleks's. I'm not going to update anything. I'm just going to enjoy my night and celebrate my very first college acceptance letter. I'll just forget about everything else for the time being. ... and try not to get burned.

-B.