Metal in the Microwave

Instantaneous comfort, the second I met you. It was unbelievable; I felt like I had found a way to hate everyone for so long, but there was something in you. Something that blatantly defied my inability to find more positives than negatives. I know that everything has a gravitational attraction to everything, but between you and I, it seemed slightly more powerful. The energy that surrounded you drew me in like the smell of cookies baking in the oven. I was attracted to you, I just felt physically pulled closer to you when we were together. When space sat between us I grew oblivious to how significant this attraction was; the second we were reunited it felt like sparks. Sparks of effervescence. We were like a science experiment, you and I. Like when you mix two chemicals that just go ape-shit when they get together. As time passed, this constant reaction began wearing on me. Like a tire losing its tread, it became more and more difficult for me to control the speed or intensity of the sparks. I craved them when they were absent, and I was incapable of absorbing them when they were present. I grew afraid of these sparks; I grew afraid of you. Distance seeped between us while our eyes were shut. As apathetic as the kids we were we shut our eyes to ignore, look past, keep out, these unmatched feelings that controlled our every move, consuming us like light consumes the dark when you flip the switch. We had already flipped the switch, but found ourselves unable to stop the light. We were cowards; I amplified your imperfections in order to jade my perception, and let you roll off my back into the past tense of my narrative. Rather than dislike your actions, I manipulated my own mind to dislike you. You never covered your mouth when you coughed, you left the toilet seat up, smoked too much, communicated too little, went to bed too late, woke up too early, and when the moon ruled the sky, and we laid in your bed, you never held me tight enough.

You know when you were a kid? Just when you were old enough to reach the buttons on the microwave; stirring your hot chocolate mix into a mug of milk, then placing the mug (metal spoon included) into the microwave and pressing start. About one-second in, the metal appears to EXPLODE with flashes of light and a slight buzzing sound. When I made this amateur mistake, I instantly jumped to open the microwave door in order to stop the sparks. I had no idea where they came from and was unaware of their capacity to grow. I made the instinctual decision, as most people do. I annihilated the very thing I was afraid of because I felt as though its power could exceed my own. In simpler terms, I was a kid that wanted to avoid being blown up at all costs. Even if this meant that I wouldn’t get my hot chocolate. What good is a hot chocolate when you’re dead…Am I right?

You and I were like metal in the microwave, explosive, sudden, and quick. Nobody warned us of this feeling; I mean, how could they. Does everyone experience this? Does every child stop the microwave instantly, or do some let the sparks grow, metastasize until they can’t be contained any longer? Does anyone know what happened when the sparks are given the chance to live out their destiny? I like to think there are some that don’t let the sudden reaction inhibit their ability to feel. Maybe some people recognize and utilize their infinite capacity for feeling. Rather than stop the microwave, they wait; they watch; they feel what most are afraid to explore. They feel that there is something beyond what they have been exposed to prior, something omnipotent. I think about this often, if I regret putting an end to the sparks. After all, when I stopped the microwave, all I was left with was a cold hot chocolate, and now all I’m left with are the memories of you and I sparking like metal in the microwave. 


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by hallekitty

I write to explore the things I can't understand.

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