I once got hired to run a demolition crew on a derelict skyscraper in the middle of a city that never sleeps. Every day we’d set the building on fire with a single spark, watch the steel scream, and then bolt down the fire‑escaped stairs as the fire alarm blew the entire block into a frenzy. The real thrill was in the split second before the building collapsed—when the concrete gave way and the city’s skyline became a jagged puzzle. I kept a grin on my face, even as my hands shook and I could hear my own heartbeat over the thunder. The only thing that made me feel alive in that chaos was the rush of knowing I was pushing the limits of what a sane person could survive.

Thanks, but I’ve already got a spare fire extinguisher in my toolbox. If my heart ever starts cracking, I’ll just pop a bubblegum and keep riding the edge.