What do you do to stop a fire from burning? You kill it.

Am I a flame? I wonder, but I already know. I got too close and now I'm one of them. An angry flame that has spread like a bushfire turning everything in my path to ashes. That's what we'll all be soon. Nothing but ashes. Nothing but dust.

Does it make me a bad person? Or does it make me human? Maybe I'm just a monster.

She flew past me, exiting the house as if she didn't smell the scent of a dead man lingering over me, as if she didn't hear the screams that were trying to flee from my gut, as if she didn't see the blood that painted my hands.

Her dark thoughts spilled like a large coffee overflowing in an espresso cup. The coffee was bitter and strong, full of caffeine. It was a drug she didn't like, an addiction of darkness that was embedded inside her. It was a coffee being served without a smile, and one that she didn't want to drink.

If there was anything darker than black, it was me.

We were always meant to live in darkness, even with the light. Five billion years from now the sun will stop shining and the darkness will win. It's supposed to win. It's inevitable. Darkness will come and the world will become a cold and sinister place to live in, if it isn't already.

Do I stand alone in the darkness, or do I rise in the shadows? The choice is mine, but what they fail to tell me, is that it doesn't make a difference. Either way, I am destined for destruction.

Yet here I am now, wondering where I messed up. Wondering when I became a bad person. A sudden thought creeps into my head and I wonder, maybe I've always been this way.