There are fireworks going off outside. I don’t know who’s launching them, or the legality of it in my state, but they’re beautiful regardless. Each explosion of light brings me a little closer to the me that was happy. It’s like watching the stars in bloom. And every booming sound they make makes my heart jump.
I love fireworks. For the longest time, one of my biggest dreams was to lay in the grass and watch fireworks with someone I loved. I accomplished that dream, even though we’re not together anymore. Even though I despise her. It’s a good memory in spite of that. She can’t take that one away from me.
Now I want to do it again, but falling in love has become a lot more difficult for me. I’ve gained weight, and my acne won’t go away even though I’m in my twenties. What affects me even more than that is the fact that my heart is a lot more closed off than it used to be. I still wear it on my sleeve, but I’m wearing long sleeves now, and rolling the heart up with them. It’s not as visible; It’s not as obvious to others that I crave their affection. And honestly, I don’t crave it as much as I used to.
My heart has been acting like these fireworks. It bursts and blooms for someone, then fades away leaving nothing but a trail of smoke in my lungs. I cough and choke on the feelings after having them. I’m reminded how much wrong these feelings have done me, and I spit them out. Then I see her, and my heart does it again. It’s exhausting. It’s exciting. It’s a whole fucking lot of things.
For now, I’ll watch the fireworks alone. That’s okay with me.