I no longer see myself as the girl who is so innately destructive that she might leave a trail of charred earth in her wake, but I do know that I am on first-name terms with burning, with blazing high and burning out. Here I am, back in that cycle of fuel, of conflagration, and of scorched earth. The loss that it brings—the complete collapse of self—is always agonising, but there’s something I secretly like about it, too. After all, the bare ground invites a new kindling. To have nothing to lose, you have to first lose everything.
