I froze.
I couldn't move.
I tried to scream,
but the words were locked in my throat.
I felt disgusted.
I felt huge urge to cry for help.
I felt like I dying,
Right there and then.
Outside,
People looked at me with curiosity, not concern.
Like I was an interesting story.
Not a person.
A story to pass the time.
No one truly wanted to understand me.
I told myself,
I'm okay.
It's alright.
It'll pass.
You'll survive.
You're strong.
"You. Are. Strong."
I forcely feed those words to me.
I tried to hold it in.
Don't show it.
I don't want them to look at me.
Please keep your eyes away.
But to my surprise, I felt angry.
The fear I felt was not there anymore.
I led the gasoline to the room.
Didn't cared who saw me.
Or what they thought of me.
But I couldn't witness the fire.
Maybe its warmth
could've purified me.
I tried to live.
But it always returned—
a shadow that clung to my skin.
Maybe I never made it out.
I tried reasoning with myself,
But I came to hate myself.
And unexpectedly one day,
tears came to my eyes,
I guess I wanted just anything,
anything to just understand me.