Matthew and I had been dating for 10 years, and we had been best friends for as long as I can remember. Today was our anniversary. He was taking me out for a surprise so we could celebrate. We were in his red convertible, singing along to our favourite song Set Me On Fire by Flyleaf. As we got to the bridge of the song, panic flooded our bodies – a truck was coming at us full speed from the opposite direction. Matt tried to steer the car into the opposite lane to avoid getting hit but lost control, and we crashed into a nearby tree. The car lit up with bright orange flames. Everything and everyone was on fire – how ironic. Both Matt and the truck driver died, while miraculously, I was the sole survivor. I spent every second of the following days torturing myself with a false hope that it would someday repay my debt - the debt that began to drown me the second he drew his last breath. Survivor’s guilt. That’s what I felt. Why did he have to go? Why didn’t I go with him? If love could have saved him, he would have lived forever. Sadly, in this specific situation, love is completely powerless and can save no one. I couldn’t imagine a life without him. The few times I tried, I felt suffocated by the flood of intrusive thoughts and memories that never ceased to destroy the temporary barrier built by my mind between them and my new imaginary life. Every night since the accident, I’d fall asleep to Set Me On Fire which was the last song we ever listened to together. On the 365th night, the answer was crystal clear – self-immolation. I drowned my body, our home and belongings in gallons of gasoline as I prepared for death and deeply-feared oblivion. I set myself on fire. The flames roared and spread like a wildfire through the house. It engulfed my small figure and melted my skin, charred my lungs, then turned my heart to embers. After a painful yet numbing time left unaccounted for, the moment finally came. Every trace of my physical being was now gone and would be soon forgotten. Burnt ash became of the physical matter I once called my body. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. No one is sure where you go or what happens in the after-life. I believed that we all have a final resting place. I hoped that when I got there, Matthew would be there waiting for me, so we could continue our abruptly ended love story. I’d been set free from the anchor of guilt that held me down. I lived 365 days of hurt and indescribable pain, and my departing soul finally felt at peace. It had finally found that feeling of safety and serenity I yearned for during my last days on earth.
“Because I never realized you could fall in love with humans the same way you fall in love with songs. How the tune of them could mean nothing to you at first, an unfamiliar melody, but quickly turn into a symphony carved across your skin; a hymn in the web of your veins; a harmony stitched into the lining of your soul.”
– Krystal Sutherland: Our Chemical Hearts
Inspired by the extract from the book Our Chemical Hearts by Krystal Sutherland.
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