Featured Piece: "Burning" by Alix Van Pelt

This piece was written by a friend and very talented fellow writer. I asked her if I could share it because I love the raw emotional intensity she manages to convey. Enjoy!

Burning 

by Alix Van Pelt 

You wake up this morning and the wound is still there. Now it has scabbed over where the cut used to be, but you still have vivid memories of how it happened. The curb you tripped over? The bike you fell off? The blade of the knife piercing through your skin as his hand dug deep inside your chest, ripping out your still beating heart. 

You cannot stand and carry yourself out of bed when three tons of devastation sits on your shoulders. You cannot find strength within when your own thoughts and instincts are untrustworthy. You cannot reach out for comfort and support when you are terrified that anyone could be your next attacker. 

Agonizing; it’s the perfect adjective. It invokes a sense of burning. Something that spreads. Something that makes time stand still so it can torture you slowly. 

You navigate your day with tear-swollen eyes and eat nothing and talk to nobody until it’s time to go home and cry yourself to sleep all over again. 

You believe you allowed yourself to be hurt this way. You let your guard down, foolish and too eager. Even the sweetest poison will knock you dead. 

Your nightmares wake you often, in a cold sweat with a dry mouth, somehow naked. You dreamt you went to Paris all alone, excited and certain it would heal your soul. But you’re lonely and very sad and you fall asleep in the bathtub to the sound of lovers giggling along The Seine. 

It’s likely you will never find happiness again, but if you do it will be weak and remind you of past joy. The way you were before all of this pain. 

Even the greyest morning you can remember must have been brighter than this. You may never laugh again. You will never trust another soul. It’s possible you could perish by way of despair. 

You hear a joke on the subway and smile. The familiar feeling surprises you, but you don’t stop it. 

You drink coffee that is so rich and delicious you order another cup and drink it while you listen to a folk guitarist tell her own tales of heartache. 

The slightest bit of sunshine pierces your bedroom floor and you are flooded with memories of the outside world. You remember last night’s nightmare- the beautiful oak tree in your yard that you’ve loved since you were a girl, burned to the ground. But you haven’t looked outside in days. Was it really only a dream? 

You tear open the curtains. The oak tree, with its sturdy roots and strong branches is still there, still standing.