I Want a Fire


I want a fire.

I need something burning under me that doesn’t need kindling every goddam morning. I don’t need a friend nor any compatriot. I don’t need a role model or a parent figure to tell me how to live my life or what to do.

I need a drive that will force me into the icy water to stave off the pain of the burning, to let comfort only reach me when I am buried in extremes. I need a hunger or passion. A dedication. Some ever-present thought to keep me busy, some torment to keep my mouth wet. Some temptation so endearing that my mind can never stray from whatever accomplishment I put before it. I want to be a valuable person. Intrinsically so.

I want to be a powerful person. Intrinsically so. Stripped of all money all social contacts, everything that I lean upon I want to till stand strong. No matter if I am ugly, if I am weak, crippled by pain or by weapon. No matter if I am stupid or forgetful, wracked by doubt and plagued with indecision.

I want to be, and indeed I will be strong.

I want a fire.

I will not fall again.

This is the man I want to be.

One who overcomes his cowardice and backs down for nothing. I want to be fearless. I want to have an incredible pain threshold because my unsayable determination’s unwillingness to give into any will other than my own.

I want to have complete control of my functions always. To take everything in stride, to suffer no fools, to seek no council with blind men. I want to be a man that others would look up to did they not fear him.

I want to learn to love pain’s excesses. To see at all times the trial that it presents. I want most of all to be capable of surmounting this obstacle, and any other.

I want to be deformed by scars that are testament to my strength, to not be decorated by the trivial black lines of losers, but to have my life written on my skin. Not in some purposeful ritual, but to live a life that leaves its mark on my body, that takes its toll on my features. A life that hardens me.

I want a fire.

I want to be a hard man, not a clown, gibbering and smirking like a fool. I am a clown.

So how do I throw off my clownish persona? How do I discard what I am and pick up another? How do I keep a resolution in my mind and not fall back?

They tell me I simply must learn to fall well but I believe they have failed in instructing me how to stay on the horse, how to grip and strain. The more I fail the deeper the trench grows and the greater the struggle it is to get back up.

I am tired of getting back up.

I want to stand firm and never fall again.

LET them break my legs from under me and my will preserve me.

Even if I fall in body my spirit remaining.

I want such a indominable power to course through me that such is their description of me when I face my enemies, when I look them in the eyes.

Not mere courage, not mere virtue, but raw unbridled power.

I want a fire.

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