Psychosis

1_-psychosis-

The flames were consuming the otherwise palatable scenery. Smoke filled the wide spaces in the perfect blue sky while the wind threw sparks of the flares onto adjacent buildings. The fire, the heat, the melting of your vision, it was all so pleasurable. So immensely consuming you would have no escape and no excuses, there is no running or hiding it. The fire had all the power. And it was the most beautiful, the most invigorating of catastrophes she had ever witnessed.

But like all good things that come to an end, the firefighters started gushing water from their pipes and extinguished the fire in approximately fifteen minutes. And by 7:10, it was all done and over. The building was in shambles again. All black and modest and conforming to the layout of the city. There was nothing special about it anymore. It was no longer burning and no longer alighted.

That’s all it took to take the fire away. A pressurized strand of water to throw away all the fire that was exciting her and motivating her. The heat that was so close, the lighter she had used so many times before. Every time the pyromaniac got close enough to make a difference, the God-forsaken firefighters would rush right over and extinguish all her efforts.

They were exactly always on time. Exactly at 6:55 every day. Every time she saw a new fire burning, a new excitement flickering up and something original stepping out from the shadows for once, the fire extinguishers would be right there, exactly on cue, to put a stop to it.

“Wait. You think I’m talking about literal buildings on fire?” the red-head turns around and asks you, “I’m not crazy like that. I don’t want people dying or damaging property to fire!” she scolds with exasperated disbelief, “I’m talking about the fire within each one of us. That excites us and drives our passion. That our smug cowardice and lack of thrill extinguishes. You losers.”

And with that she walks on. Her red hair swinging behind her back as she tugs her black coat and stomps her gorgeous heels towards the street side walk.

She’s a pyromaniac who enjoys seeing peoples’ pupils dilate as they talk about the things that excite them personally. Not about the things that are trendy on the internet or in their social circles. The people who actually have real fire inside of them and are thrilled to be a part of the bigger world around them and are not ashamed of being their unique, weird selves with their distinctive skills and insights.

This red-headed pyromaniac has been trying to diffuse the dampness that keeps your sparks from lighting on fire. The uncertainty you feel and the fear of judgement you have from people who don’t even care about you.

“Frankly, I think that’s pathetic of you all.” and with that, the freckled dotted red head disappears to the right.

I know she is no one to hold such an opinion about anyone, so lets ignore her. Let’s let her disappear around the corner to the right. Let’s investigate ourselves and ask how many fire extinguishers do we have keeping ourselves from doing what we really want?

Why haven’t you asked her out yet? Why haven’t you told your sister you feel neglected? Why do you not speak up your opposition in class? Why do you nod your head and shrug it off when you now you have a different agenda and can do much better than that?

Well that’s our problem, with ourselves and our hearts. And it’s our choice whatever we make or do. We are not obliged to anyone’s criticisms and we do not care if we choose to avoid the things that make our heart beat because everyone else is doing the same to their selves.

So yeah! Maybe the pyromaniac should just go and mind her own business. Because of course, she’s crazy. She likes setting things on fire. She is passionate and makes us ponder over things we don’t want to do. She’s trying to make us crazy like her! Like listen to our hearts and do the things we are afraid of doing and yet so desperately want to try out, at least once in our lives.

Ask yourselves this: who deserves the real psychosis? Because the pyromaniac is seeing reality for what it really is. She knows how much you like the guy and she knows music is the career you want and she knows you want to travel and that you wish to quit your job. And the only thing she is questioning is your excuse and your procrastination from what your entire being, right down to your core, is yearning for.

Psychoanalyze yourselves and peek into the real psychosis that torment our lives and our surroundings. The people around you who are afraid to come out as their original selves. And those who are judged and bullied for trying to be themselves by the cowards who didn’t have it in them to be different. How huge a part are you playing in the psychosis we live in? Are you fooling yourself? Or the ones around you with your fake smiles and I’m okays? Or are you judging the ones who are different and snickering about their business and tormenting their uniqueness?

6:55 goes the clock! The fire-extinguisher exactly always on time. Your inner fire was just about to be released into something real and something worth it. Something that would uplift the suffocation you feel and liberate you to your wildest potential and your sky-rocketing fury. You could’ve changed the word. You could’ve influenced one other person to embrace their individuality. Heck! You could’ve broken your own chains and flown away into oblivion guided by your fire. But! But you called your fire extinguisher and you blew off your chance.

And that’s how we live. By calling the people truly invested into individuality crazy pyromaniacs just because we are happy in our convenient bubble of comfortable illusion. So that we never have to face any opposition or question about the things that are deeply entwined into our hearts. So that we don’t have to defend ourselves from what’s real and so that we can be a conformist part of our society and never ever bring about any change, even the necessary one.

So off you go you pyromaniac! There’s enough psychosis ruling our environment. We don’t need yours too.

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