This is not a lie. I started the fire that burned my house down. I started it on purpose.

I like it when things burn. I like it when things I love burn. It makes me love them more.

In my version of the creation myth, the world was created by the sun so it could burn something pretty. And slowly, that is happening. I am just praying to my god when I burn things.

It makes them naked. I can see what they really are. I consign their essence to the sun.

I will live on the street for a while. It is a cold winter, and I will have many things to burn.

I want to be cremated when I die. But it is unlikely this will be necessary.