Alright, here goes nothing. Welcome to my first Vocaloid fanfic.
This story was inspired by a box of matches I saw at restaurant.
Don't play with fire, you're bound to get burned.
Simple and very straight forward advice. And everyone's heard it before.
Don't play with fire, you're bound to get burned.
There's one thing that quote doesn't really address though; it's fun.
And yes, I'll admit I'm a pyromaniac but don't judge me until you've tried it; until you've seen something burn in front of your eyes and thought, "I did this, and I can do it again."
And why not? Do it again I mean. Everything's fine, and you had fun, so why not do it just once more. Watch as the flames lick and eat away at the little piece of paper. You're not hurting anyone. Just having fun.
Then, of course, the inevitable happens; you get burned. After which, human nature takes over. You get a small shot of adrenaline as you snatch your hand away and quickly stomp out the flame. You stay frozen and take a moment to catch your breath. Once you've recovered though, you realize... you're fine. And you realize another thing; that was even more fun!
So you keep on playing, setting fire to just little pieces of paper or wood, allowing the flames to lick closer to your fingers each time. You get more accustom to the glow and slight heat of the match with each passing minute, and soon it becomes almost... comfortable.
But enough of that, I'm rambling now. What I'm trying to say is this; my life was painfully average when I came across that box of matches. It seemed to call out to me, so I reached out for it.
Don't play with fire, you're bound to get burned.
But I didn't care.
The flames I played with that night added a spark to my life, even if it was just for a moment. I knew it wasn't... safe. But I craved some kind of excitement, and I got what I wanted.
Even if it was risky.
Even if it was dangerous.
Even if I knew, I had just gotten to the top of a very slippery slope.