It’s my fault.

It’s my fault.

It’s My Fault.

IT’S MY FAULT.

IT’S MY FAULT!

That’s all i can think, all i can say, all i can scream into the ash filled air. Things were finally changing. Things were getting be better. But I couldn’t handle that apparently. Good wasn’t Great enough for me.

I needed more.

I ALWAYS need more.

Tears choke my windpipe making it impossible. The air is thick with smoke and desperation.

The Fire was getting out of control, tearing down buildings that i had lived my whole life in. Effortlessly destroying my entire reality.

This is my fault.

I look around at the damage, the corpses.

I can’t do this.

Why couldn’t i just be happy with what I had?

That was a rhetorical question.

I know why

I look at my brother in the corner, he is not breathing but I can still hear his laughter.

How is that possible?

That was a rhetorical question as well.

My mind is trying to make me process my grief,

I refuse.

First I have to fix this.

This is my fault.

I HAVE to make it right.