You Do it to Yourself, You Do and That's What Really Hurts

I nearly killed myself yesterday.

My friend Freya turns 20-something-today, and last night she held a potluck dinner to celebrate. I foolishly attempted to prepare a dish of baked curry and tofu (because I had curry powder, tofu, and a casserole dish) in my oven, which I had not used yet. After lighting the pilot and allowing the oven to heat up, I set about preparing the curry marinade and slicing the tofu. Once the dish was prepared, I opened the oven to find that the pilot light had gone out. Yes, I'm sure you can see where this story is headed. In hindsight, I think I did, too, I just didn't believe it. I left the oven open, to let it air out, and turned the gas down. I went to find the lighter, and came back. Holding the lighter in my right hand, I reached down and flicked it on.

Now, there are certain things in this life you never want to see. Manatees mating, a sequel to Catwoman, and a torso-sized ball of flame heading right for your face.

Never did I truly think I was going to die. I thought I would be horribly disfigured and perhaps blinded, which, in my mind, is even worse than a quick death. Fortunately for me, I was wearing glasses, and my eyes were shielded from the flames. I got off light, with only first degree burns to a quarter of my face, and on my right hand (where I was holding the lighter). Also, my right arm is smoother than before, and I won't be needing to have my barber shorten up my hair for a while. I was unable to finish preparing the dish, obviously, and spent the rest of the afternoon watching television and keeping cool water on my face.

The pain was excruciating, although not on par with that which Crohn's Disease has caused for me, until I finally purchased a battery of burn-relief products. Oh, boy do I love Bactine.

Afterward (and during) I was extremely depressed over my ex-girlfriend, again. I wanted to call her up, reminisce about the time she burned herself with hot glue, and laugh it all off. But I can't do that, not right now, and perhaps not ever again. I don't miss her as a girlfriend anymore. Of course I miss having someone to hold, and the feeling of lips against mine, but that's all secondary. In that moment, as I sat alone in my apartment with a wet towel draped across my face a-la Phantom of the Opera while South Park played on my television, I missed my friend again.

Just like the waves of pain washing across my face, the loneliness I felt burned so deep because I knew it was my fault.