Psychic Pyrokinesis

As I was watching the clouds blot out the sun, I found myself growing increasingly restless. The darkness is cool relief from the bright heat of the sun, and somehow I feel like I need to take advantage of it. If only it would storm now. *sighs* When I close my eyes now, I see a little girl in the center of a room that is slowly being consumed by fire. Her knees drawn up to her chin, her eyes glittering in the flickering light of the flames. Her white nightgown is in stark contrast to the shadows that play hide and seek with the flames. Most people would scream for her to run, to save herself. But I believe she is in the eye of the storm. While the forces of nature rage away around her, she is in a place of peace. I can only watch as an eerie calm steals into her eyes. She's looking directly at me as I watch the scene unfold. Even in the face of death, her expression does not waver. I don't know...morbid, isn't it? My heart has been clouded recently, and true to form, I vanish whenever I feel the sensation seeping through. I don't want to always be this way. Not that anyone would understand. *sigh* Without my piano, I feel like a plant kept in darkness. I'm starting to wilt. I'm dying without the instrument that has been my sole companion all these years. In those days, when my family was away, I'd glide down the stairs and play as the darkness swelled around me, an ocean in which I was king. This...this horrible monstrosity rebels from my touch, this horrendous contraption that is my substitute. There will be no substitute, and I feel my strength fading from me, like streams of blood flowing from the condemned. *sigh* Even in despair, I find a thread of heat winding its way through my heart, firing up my blood. I'm so tired of having to fight to keep what is rightfully mine. Those that I love have been snatched away by Time and Ignorance. My anger gives me strength, but the anger of those touched by fire is explosive and unpredictable. Innocent bystanders could be caught in the crossfire, and I don't want that. But I've exhausted myself trying to remain busy in a life so monotonous with my musical companion. My fury is like the rage of volcanos, rare and terrible to behold, and usually deadly. It takes a lot to get me so furious that my words become icy splinters to break hearts. When I close my eyes now, I see charred earth and rivers of burning blood. I have never wanted anything but peace, and now I am denied my only passport to salvation. For reasons that I cannot understand, try as I may. It must storm now, so I can dance in the rain as wild as the elements I so love, and bleed the excess energy away. I don't want anything else except peace, but it seems I can never have that. I need guidance, not from mortals who will never understand. Divine intervention seems laughable to me right now. What have I, a corrupted soul tainted by darkness, done to deserve peace? I will halt the river of tears, because nothing has changed. Two years....six...eight. I'm still all alone. Even worse, I've lost my piano. The only companion that has given me peace, a flickering ray of hope all these years. *shakes head* The walls suffocate me, and without music to keep my darkness at bay, I drown even more each day. It was too much to hope for, wasn't it? My wealth is gone, my skills are fading away to nothingness, and I...believe hope is just a meaningless word people invoke when they are truly desperate. I with all my knowledge of darkness...can never be touched by light. So this is goodbye then. Goodbye to all the fragmented moments of peace I once thought I could collate into my shrine to salvation. As hope dissipates in my open palm and is replaced by a drop of my tears, two..a ceaseless flood...I wonder if I have the strength to face the people who care about me and keep my illusions in place enough to stop them worrying about me. I don't want pity, I don't want sympathy, I don't want anything...save for understanding, and the return of the only emotional attachment I treasure so much.