The fire danced towards the night sky.
The reds flirted with the yellows. Orange sparks reached into fresh, southern air. Glowing embers seared my gaze. I can still see the blaze before me – its heat licking the soles of my sandaled feet perched against the pit’s rim – pressing itself higher. Reaching for the stars.
I remember being lost. The sense of crushing failure filling my lungs along with the scent of charred wood. I heard laughter grow in the background – the party I escaped spilling towards me; engulfing me despite my reluctance.
I remember feeling helpless to the night. Wishing I was both anywhere else, and right where I was. I remember thinking, in that moment – as a log bursting from the heat sent a spray of flames prancing into the sky – I deserve more. I need more.
I was meant for more.