When I first seem them start, it's not really all that, to be honest. I think "meh, they're cool, I guess, now when will it be over again?" But soon, like all the other younger than 11-years-olds in the place, I can't help but be sucked in.
Am I the only one who just wants to run towards the sparkling lights of a thousand gems? To spin and twirl and spiral and swirl under the twinkling lights, reaching out to just touch the drops of fire raining from above?
Am I the only one who just wants to stare at the flashing jewels bursting with the colors of the rainbow, and everything in between, till my eyes sting and burn and my neck turns stiff?
Am I the only one who just wants to listen to the roars, the ear-splitting noise crackling and vibrating in the air till my ears ring and buzz?
Am I the only one, whose heart beats in rhythm, with the booms of the firework, thumping along in a not-so-steady tempo? Am I the only one who somewhat sorta wishes that the display will never end?
Am I the only one who, in a somewhat desperate, somewhat pathetic attempt to create the magic, by buying mini sparklers of my own? Who lights the little magic wands every other night, watching in awe every time, as flames spurt from the tiny stick, and thin strands of light tangle into a connecting web as they fly?
Am I the only one who loves the slightly suffocating smell of the sparklers burning, which is so different from cigarettes? Am I the only one who stands and watches the smoke billow, a wispy grey cloud illuminated silver by firelight, drift into nothingness?
Am I the only one whose heart races when I see the fire, when I see the sparks fly free?
I think I have an obsession with fireworks. There's just something so very magical about them. And really, can you blame me?