How can one person ignite such a passion just from glimpsing their face? A firework that lights up the chest and leaves a slow steady burning the rest of the day. A burn that quickens the heart and leaves you breathless, thinking of them every second for the foreseeable future. The way they walk. The way they dress so differently every day, getting every precise detail down to an art from their buttons to their hems. The way their lips tilt upwards every time you walk into the room. The way their low laugh reverberates throughout the room, all while being silently their own, a moment they only share with those closest around them. The way you can instantly tell from their demeanor and face what has happened in their day. Seeing them one day bright and bubbly and charismatic. The next day, quiet and brooding and tired. The way they always upkeep their hair even when their outfit is dulled down for the day.
That fire ignites in your chest as soon as you notice every minute detail about them. The kind of fire that makes you hate yourself for yearning for their attention. The kind of fire that makes you hate yourself for even noticing them. The type of emotion that closes your throat with silent tears as your face heats with the passion of raw hurt and betrayal. Their every moment of existence within close proximity to you pulling back and drawing up memories of every way they have hurt you in the past. Every way they have hurt your loved ones. Every new way they could hurt you. The paranoia that they could ruin your life with just a few words. The fear and the burning mix together as you peel your eyes away from them. Obsession and an odd sort of care intermingling. The type of care in which you wish so dearly and desperately to be noticed just to seize the opportunity to give them a taste of their own medicine. The rude, the blunt, the ugly, the mean, the terrible, the absolutely illogical insanity that must occupy their every waking thought. The way they've cheated...brought disgrace upon their family...broke friendships over the most mundane mistakes...the way they seem lonely themselves even as they push away everyone around them.
You almost wish to be their one best friend. The one they always look for in the crowd. The one they rely on the most. The one closest to them, locking away all their secrets. The power to control them, to manipulate them, to tear them down and rip everything they have away from them. And yet, the power to have insight. The power to see what they have and be able to hold pity. The power to want to help and see them as an equal. And that positive power just tears it all down. The urge to see them in a positive light ripped away as the memories of all their wrongdoings swirl and surge, drowning out everything else.
The type of fire that consumes. The type of fire that is lethal. The type of fire that survives the rain, turning into a licking flame in the background as soon as the calm water comes. That fire never goes out. The fire of hate.
