My childhood home was filled with the flames of my sisters anger. Watching my sister destroy my mothers peace taught me how to act; just don’t repeat her actions. Learning to pick up the pieces on my own through trial and error, since my mother was too burnt out to pick up the pieces for me.
Everyone was always so focused on my sister. So, I learned to use words and music as gauze for my wounds. Give me an instrument and a few hours alone in my room, and, suddenly, I’m walking out announcing a musical presentation. On days when music wouldn’t soothe my burns, I would run away to Hogwarts or Panem. Often choosing the sand-coloured pages over the torment of playing alone at recess. In an attempt to create my own place of comfort I would write stories and plays to work through my pain.
Born with a fire in her soul that most doctors would describe as Bipolar disorder, anyone in my sisters wake was bound to be burnt. Her flame eventually engulfed her limb of the family tree, severing familial connections and leaving those closest to her singed. Burn treatment consisted of year of intensive therapy, self reflection, and just walking away from the fire.
You don’t realize a burning house isn’t normal until you no longer live in one. Knowing the causes of a house fire can help decrease the chances of another flame.