It’s one of those feelings that can only be described through other things like the uncertainty surrounding a candle’s flame. Watch as human breath escapes your lips, desperate to end the combustion. Sometimes—the time that demonstrates this feeling—you’ll succeed, briefly. Smoke hangs in the air; painting the thoughts you can’t seem to find words for. For a second you experience relief. For a second. For a second you admire the bleeding ash left behind on the wick until it betrays you. The smoke reverts before your eyes. The fire returns long enough to illuminate your once useful human breath, your failure, and your fate. You’re left to question the true source of betrayal: the candle or yourself.