this fire is out of control.

Why is it? Why is it that I’m always so desperately searching? What am I searching for anyway? I look right at your eyes, inpatient for an answer, because I believe it’s you, something in me points right towards your direction but your eyes look so void; they repel me. They call out: “there is nothing here you’ll want” but I know there is, I know there is something you have to offer that I necessitate. I wish I could call you out on it, just stand in front of you and say: “be honest to yourself for a second and let me in” but I can’t. There are more than a hundred layers of brick walls between us and screaming does no good. Soon enough I will find a way of getting this message across, maybe in a bottle like a couple of centuries ago or just a paper airplane.

We can work our conditions out; make an agreement, a cost-benefit relationship. I need you, and I’m currently knocking at your door but if there is no answer, there is only so much I can wait. I can see from the tip of my eye that you’re glancing from the edge of the window, debating whether to allow me to come in or not. I believe you’re scared she might hear us, don’t be afraid because she is in the kitchen, making dinner and putting the table for two. I’m here, now, right at this moment and fuel is burning inside me and a fire is rapidly spreading across my whole body. Just say something.