Sometimes, I think about the universe.
How its unending mass could implode and crush us all in a matter of hours if a single butterfly effect went awry.

And I realize that what I have in my life is much too good for spontaneous combustion.

But, I also like to play with fire, to test my limits and feel each nerve ending as it erupts in a burst of energy and empathy.

And I know that burning is better than freezing, faster and more painless.

We're told when we're young that we shouldn't go too deep, or else the water will consume us.

Fire doesn't consume.
It creates.

Secondary succession requires flood or flame to reach its climax, but one is a silent killer and the other draws you in with its mesmerizing glow before you realize it's too late.

I like to think that people will remember me, not for my moments of idiocy, but for my times of triumph, the lasting impressions I've made in the small group of people I come into contact with, because something is better than nothing.

And, sometimes, the heat feels good against my skin, reminding me that I am here in this moment, living and breathing.

But then I sink back below the waves, remembering how the universe could implode and crush us all in a matter of hours if a single butterfly effect went awry.