Something about the open road and the uncertainty that can exist in where you’ll end up, where your destination will be. I feel most lonely, most anxious, when I am driving. I hadn’t consciously thought about why I never light it until she asked. After chatting for a bit she noticed the unlit candle. On that evening, I left my door cracked, and my roommate entered to see what I was doing. If I do it fills me with emptiness, loneliness. On a rainy Thursday evening, three months after he left and our relationship ended, I sat cross-legged on my bed blaring Fleetwood Mac with the hoard of candles in my room all burning-except for one. It comes after the petroleum has been used to manufacture the asphalt that lies beneath the wheels of your car. It comes after the petroleum has been used in the manufacturing of gasoline for your car. Like, it’s the last byproduct to be produced from petroleum production. Like, deepest depths of the bottom of the barrel product. Paraffin wax is a bottom of the barrel product. I loved him, and he loved me, and we both loved paraffin wax. I loved him, and he served as a respite from the relentless anxiety that crippled me day in and day out. Why? It probably does those things for me because of him. An inanimate object that keeps me from feeling pain. Is it strange to find solace in an object? To get joy out of something that so many take for granted? That so many don’t even see. Wax that’s derived from petroleum, or coal, or oil shale-it’s not the substance most people picture, the one derived from little honey bees flying in and out of little hexagonal hives that lie at the tops of trees. Suppose I were to start by telling you that I am in love with wax.
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