feu

| fire (masculine noun) | /fø/

This world is too great, too terrible for me to bear, so I ricochet between wonder and despair. But human resilience never fails to amaze me. How do we manage to crawl out from the ashes after a tremendous loss? And how many times have I raised my hand to say goodbye? God, how I made my mother cry.

But, to the one who tried to break me: please don’t think you’ve changed me. I am still the same person I was prior to meeting you three months ago. I will stay in France. I will see the world. I will meet new people and find new love.

And you? You will stay in the hell you’ve created for yourself. You will never have a stable or healthy relationship, and you will live with the certainty that you have sabotaged and destroyed the most positive things in your life. This is my consolation: knowing that despite my sadness, I will move, I will be, and I will remain who I am, and you will be stagnant and shrouded in darkness. Yes, you will see me cry, but you will not see me bleed. Not again, not again. I am not the stuff of ashes. I am the tenuous and irresistible fire.

Today I will not raise my hand to say goodbye; but one day, when my hair is silver and my hands are gnarled, I will think of this great and terrible life and laugh to myself, saying, “What a ride, what a ride.”

About Gabriella

I'm a twenty-something insomniac with a caffeine addiction and chronic wanderlust. I recently graduated with my M.A. in French, and I've spent the past two years living and working as an English teacher in France. I now work as an English professor at a university in Lille, where my students are learning to never omit the Oxford comma.
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