Roar of My Candles!

Every day is a present. The ones we don't expect to be given. Although, the best kinds are the ones that are purposely given to you. However, I had prepared my own gift just to be fooled by it.

Had I known it before it was too late?

No.

The first gift of the day had been me waking up to a freshly stocked refrigerator. Beaming the light below the inferno of its odorous to my lungs, the eggs crack and plot themselves down.

The realization of what really mattered had been patient.

"Did my invitations disappear?" I hopped and jogged out to my porch, where the godly mailbox was placed. It waited for me to open it up and wail in joy. I stood in front of it, sucking in the deep egg-popping aroma of soy sauce. I grasp the handle, taking in my last choice before I decide on the day god provided me with.

I open it slowly.

I look down.

I see...

I see a mailbox full of handwritten letters that I wrote with.

Maybe it's nothing. Yeah, it's nothing.

I walk away, shrugging the negativity and the growing overthinking within me, and continue this day.

"Maybe it's a cruel joke on me. Whatever."

After breakfast, the balloons in the room run in many colours: red, yellow, green, and pink. The confetti strings spread on the floor as snow angels as the glistening lights and shadows cast a spell on them to shine like diamonds in the rough of my polished wooden floors.

Ahhh, the sweet frosting of cocoa butter with coconut crushed springs over the table with many other sweets and munches.

House after house, many of my near-round neighbors had asked why I had functioned on my gifts and decorations. Many felt pity for me as their hearts dug holes for me to fill. I hadn't known them but having a bit of love and attention felt satisfactory.

"Where are your parents, dear?" said one fellow neighbors of mine.

"My parents are out of time for their own vacation, and as school holds me back, they worry for my future." I grin through the aching teeth of what's reality.

My parents weren't here to celebrate with me.

My head carried vague memories of them.

What did they look like?

Barely saw any. Even in some photos, their faces were always blurred.

There was only one thing that reminded me of them. It was a burning smell of ashes or some sort.

They had died in a fire, but I felt ashamed to mention I grew up on my own.

This concludes my party if I had brought all my sorrows to one feast as a reminder. The candles flames make me feel at home. Make me feel I have my parents love.

Through all this pain, there was a moment in my life that really dug deep.

The nails in my hear felt caged around the dark hours of the setting sun.

The hours dawn finally sets, and now I realize they have fooled me. Eyes awakening, I laugh but tear. I smile yet grit. Should the choice be to laugh it off or feel emotional?

"This just means there's way more cake for me forever."

I think about the moments I've done a lot, and now this party of mine has gotten bitter and full of pitiful memories. No mother. No father. Yet, I alone stand. The cake compelling magic on me that without a thought, I grab a handful of cake and shove it in my mouth as I hold back my tears.

"Bite back the tears to not show vulnerability." I spoke to the broken bits.

"It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to."

Tears finally flow and I don't blow the candle out as I let them drop the waxes and burn this house down. I'll cry until the candles burn down this place. I'll call until my pity party's in flames.

After all this lying and hurting, the acceptance within had to come out at any moment.

The cause of my parent's death was me.

Why me you may ask?

They had left me alone at home. Thinking of their own fun in the bedroom, the rubbing of love skipped a poor child's birthday. For my own sake, I waited for the candles to do their purpose for I sang the sweet melody of 'Happy Birthday!'.

The soreness grew, and I knew the choice I made.

          I left the house as I stared down at its poor wooden walls. The sudden arousal turns into the burning flesh they feel. Please into pain.

Joy into guilt.

The bottom base reaches its orange-yellow flames soon to the second floor and onto the attic. All our memories lie beyond the hell's wishes.

I watch as my father looks out the window. Flesh melting into ice cream swirl any child would want at an amusement park.

Yum!

My mother was nowhere to be found but remained one man strong enough against the holocaust.

I stare.

Smiling.

Proud of what I did.

Guilty of why I hadn't done this before.

I should've done this long before.

I stare long and hard, sucking in the old smell of gasoline and decomposition that my mother was long passed and gone. Roaring candles let out their tears and we are here running from them.

          THUD- THUD- THUD! There was a loud thudding from the front door, and his agitating yells call for my help. Him now becoming the poor man, I place my boot on his head and crush his skull.

Coming back to reality, The water splirting out as the fragile concrete around it. The shield now breaks. The heart now hardens.

Off to my surroundings, I stare at the firewalls. The screams of the poor souls I've killed. The rugs of slaughtered mammals below my feet square up to the light of pain.

I sit on the couch unbothered, as I wait for the explosion of the night.

Let death be my last firework memory for this world.

The cake left on the platter; I eat my guilt to wish those for forgiveness.

In these walls, I let myself be a victim.

Even the smallest things can become deadly.