I lived and breathed fire.
It surrounded me.
Flames raged at uncertain intervals. I never knew what the day held for me except for fear.
Every morning I would open my door with care and test the outside temperature. Most days were cool, some days balmy and the worst days scorched at my soul.
I greeted this uncertainty by becoming my version of invisible. Whatever beauty I held began to fade away.
The layers of soot and ash had cloaked my authenticity until even years and distance could not deny what I had lived. Until I could no longer deny living meant more than surviving. It meant facing the fire in its entirety. It meant walking through walls of flames for days and days.
I flailed through the heat and the hurt with everything I had. Pain pounded at me from every angle. I fell to the earth, folded myself over and waited for as long as it took.
Time blurred as the flames roared over me.
I did not recoil as I had no fight left in me.
If this was my ending, I had made my peace.
Through my pain I held onto this peace as it was always a notch beneath the fire that consumed me. As I focused on it and not on my pain, the raging fire faded from view.
My heart glowed for the first time, lit from Within.
Quiet in its power the only burn remaining was Truth.
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