Wildfires

Why do I care so much about what everyone thinks of me?
Why do I care so much about what I think of myself?

I’m a
contradiction,
fraud,
lost cause.

If someone had no one could everyone have someone?
If everyone liked no one could someone like everyone?

Fill-in-the circle tests should have answers like this:
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
I couldn't care less.

It’s amazing how insane I am capable of being.

Are you getting out of the car anytime soon?
he asks plaintively, arms and head resting on the steering wheel.

My eyes are fixated on the assortment of people
Who are making their way over to the mausoleum;
They follow each other like a colony of ants to cookie crumbs.
I am prolonging this for my sake only,
Hoping I don’t have to arrive with Ryne beside me.

I’ll go to her grave when I’m ready,
I respond curtly.

We’re going to miss the ceremony at this rate then.
Ryne is despondent but trying not to show it.

I appreciate the fact that you drove me here and my limbs
are still attached in the right places but do me a favour, ok?
I open the car door and get out.
Don’t wait up for me. Stop trying to be the hero and fuck off.

I slam the car door; the sound echoes as I walk at a slightly fast pace
with the faint crescendo of a dirge replacing my frenzied thoughts.

I should’ve taken the bus.