I remember it. The way it felt to feel so far away that the end could come and it wouldn't have mattered at all.

I thought it was, it was supposed to be: gone.

And then, there it was. Sitting in its dusty, forgotten corner, there it was, staring at me the entire time. Time had taken its toll on its now ugly face, but still I challenged it to a staring contest. When it was young and beautiful, I should've known how wrong it was. But isn't that what it means to be blinded by beauty?

It didn't bother me until it brought back every, single, little detail: everything, everyone, every place, and every word. All the things I thought were dead, forgiven and forgotten were there again. Staring me in the face, filling me up again as my nails ached to dig into something and I wished it would just disappear into thin air.

It drove me insane, how relentless it was. How my intensity didn't change a thing. How it would never give in.

What can an inanimate object do, after all?

And then: ignition.