Reassuring flames of warmth mitigate his loneliness from time to time, but not enough to completely eradicate the monotony of his life
Ah yes, the fireside is where he always retreats to, a receptive listener that never shuts him out for his delusional utterances or fluctuating mood swings
Beyond these imprisoning walls of modern Victorian beauty,
He yearns for the freedom of ingratiating himself as a "normal" individual
What constitutes normal is not within his reach, for he was brought up with the concept that wealth is the ultimate authority
Therefore, he indulges in this hedonistic lifestyle for twenty-five years, a handsome young man who did not have to give a single **** about being self-sufficient
You see, this young man knew that deep within his selfishness, that he was not a man
He is like a boy
A reclusive, insolent, boy
Heh, but can you blame him?
Yes, just like the crackle and tackle of the glaringly-blinding flames,
He snaps, "**** it. It's all or nothing."
He packs his amenities and boards his private jet of luxury into oblivion to accomplish something
What had transpired to shift his stubborn heart?
He grew weary of the same old, same stone, fireside
He is a man
A new reflection of the blurry mirror that he once was
I knew that I had to write this piece when an image of a fireside burned into my mind.