Rebecca Teall

To those of you who smell smoke and feel flames licking your throat, I would like to refer you to a pair of sunglasses I once saw that read: It’s ok not to be ok. While it may not be as proactive as water, or perhaps a fire extinguisher, it can be assured that the flames will seem less bright and looking into a mirror is much more tolerable. The sting may remain, but you look snazzy.

Recently I have been bathing in hellfire. It is only equipped with the memory of such a sweet accessory that I am able to retain the barest minimum of my sanity. Unfortunately, life has provided me with no other tool to save myself, and so it grins and throws ACTs, essays, college advisors, and other highly flammable things at me that just enhance the experience of my burning.

I hope that after I am released I haven’t become charred, I rather like my skin on my body, and, perhaps this may be wishful thinking, but I wouldn’t mind if I were evenly tanned or perchance exuding a sun-kissed glow.

Charred or not, however, all I pray to be when it’s over is calm. In my ideal future, I imagine myself sipping tea, writing poems, and reading books, bespeckled with clear lenses.