I need another thing to go wrong in my life like I need an extra head or two left feet. It's five in the morning on the first day of school, and what am I doing? Not sleeping, not getting ready, not whining about having homework and everything all over again.
Nope. I'm watching my house burn to the ground because my little sister is a pyro. At least the dogs managed to get out.

Mom's someplace behind the fire-truck, crying and screaming about my sister and all the horrible things that Brenda's done. My father, luckily, is at work, though he's probably on his way home at this moment.

And me? Am I bemoaning the loss of all of my things? Like hell. I'm thinking that maybe, this time, I'll get a room of my own. Or not.

Fire, glitter bright
Reaching warm tendrils into the night
I bid thee welcome, my old friend,
And try to hold you with these mortal arms
But I can not hold your radiance
In another life I may get the chance
But all your warmth does is burn me
And I must turn from your fiery charms

My ode to the fire that just turned to ashes my new computer, my new stereo, our new house. Basiclly, everything we came here for. Our HOPE just became nothing more than a pile of rubbish.

Ah, well. Bittersweet irony. Bren can no more escape herself than I can escape my mind, and we are both twisted, in our ways.

At least I don't start fires.