you’re always playing with lighters and talking about how it’d feel to have the fire in your belly. so that’s when your best friend tells you about the fireball hidden in the back of her closet. she gets you a chaser and you take your first shot.
t’s fucking nasty and the face you make has her cracking up, she tells you that you’ll get used to the taste, and adds a wink for emphasis. she and you take turns with the shot glass, sliding it back and forth across the kitchen counter. you’re starting to feel the fire.
you guys take a trip to her back yard and you jump into the pool fully clothed, the water’s freezing but it doesn’t matter. the fire is radiating through your body now. and you know she feels it, too. everything’s bright for once. you’re happy and you’re drunk for the first time and you’re with your best friend. you’ve got something hopeful in your bloodstream. there’s that bright teenage hope you always looked for, it’s right here.
it’s easy to love this story because it hasn’t happened to you, but god you wish it has. you know how the fire feels, but we’re not talking about the same kind, are we? you’ve got all the pain, the kind of shit that singes your skin and puts you in the hospital for a month. you know how to take a shot of fireball- you’re definitely used to the taste, used to that burn. and it’s sad. you still haven’t felt that bright, teenage hope. you don’t know how it feels to be warm but not on fire.
so now you’re picturing yourself as the ‘you’ in this story and you see yourself with your best friend, or maybe a lover, living out a beautiful moment and you’re wondering if you’ll ever feel that kind of flame in your belly.