Fireplace
Since I was a little child, I sat in front of the chimney in the evenings. I was watching the flames with my chlidlike eyes.
Every time I saw fire, I was hypnotized by it's beauty.
I could look at fire for ages.
It was faszinating for me.
Whenever I felt sad or lonely, I just had to take a look at fire.
The red and orange flames filled me with happiness and warmth.
Of course my parents were always there for me.
But there were things I just told one person.
Whenever I needed someone to talk to, I walked over to the chimney and told the fire about my thoughts and feelings. It listened to me. Sometimes I even believed to hear it's voice...
Mentally, I would have been broken if the fire hadn't healed my soul.
In school they bullied me, because of my red- orange hair. Unfortunately, I got born with these...
The called me ,,Reddie" for exampel, or ,,Carrot" and even ,,Firehead" back then. I hated it.
But it got even worse...
Some Children started to steal my things. Additionally, two older boys started to blame me and sometimes they even hit me.
I carried myself back wounded. My parents were working. That's why I was all alone at home...
Suddenly a voice in my head whispered: ,, Go to the chimney..." Back then I didn't know why, but I did what the voice told me to do.
,,Put your hand into the flames.", said a male voice. I did what I was told to, because I had a feeling like it was okay to trust the voice. The flames didn't burn me. Instead they did the opposit. They closed all my wounds. It was my remedy for mental and physical pain.
One day when I was on my way back home, I got assaulted by some boys. The pulled me into a dark ally and started to undress me. I tried to free myself, but it didn't work. Traumatized and wounded they left me lying in the dark alley. I did not know how, but somehow I managed to limp home. And again I was alone at home.
I did not go to the first aid kit as anyone else would do. Instead, I squatted down in front of the fireplace and held my hand in the fire.
I felt so dirty and abused .
Weeping, I sat there with my hand in the fire.
My physical wounds were healed instantly, of course .
But the wounds in my soul would need much longer to heal in order ...
After about one year, I was finally able to regain confidence to my father and also to other men. Before that, however, I often had problems with the confidence of men . Whenever I touched a man panic spread through me.
Panic and fear of being raped again .
I 've always had a strange and wonderful link for the element fire.
Near the fireplace I remembered things that I usually don't.
Fire is not my enemy.
But was and is my friend , my protector , my brother and my inspiration.