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sometimes, it is much braver to defy the temporary impulses of the heart than to prolong the inevitable that sooner or later, everything will need to end.

after some time, i have been broken to the simplistic, albeit impossibly comprehensible truth, that not everything is made to last. and that the brokenness of the present is only an assurance that somehow, the future holds much more promise.

yes, initially it is hard. but given how i have been numbed by past struggles, i know i will re-emerge and regain dominion over my life.

you will see, pretty soon i know, that there is a grander scheme out there. and we are left with no other recourse but to embrace it wholeheartedly. or pretend to do so.

you take care.

i have such a hazy recollection of the first
time I discreetly challenged his authority that sometimes, I am convinced that
there never was a first time. but as my fingers securely clasp the already
burnt and shortened marlboro lights stick in its place, and while I allow
myself to be lost in its hazy glory, i know for certain that there was a second
time, then a third, until finally, i was smitten and soon found myself trapped
within its bizarrely addictive clutches.

 
my first light, my first stick,
my first puff – everything started with the prodding of friends and I must
admit that initially, my guilt gnawed at me, eating me alive and stupefying my
once clear parameters and pre-established convictions. what started as a
harmless and in retrospect, a callous choice, later turned into a lifestyle,
one which would surprisingly, alter my perception of reality, and unleash a
side of me which I never knew existed.

it was nauseating – just like my nausea
whenever I am compelled to be compacted into the rigid box of shitty
convention. it tasted bitter – similar to the bitter pangs of worthlessness
that I feel whenever I am expected to conform to the norm. it was eekie – just like how pathetically
powerless and emasculated i feel whenever i am expected to accede to the
established authority of the elderly and the ‘wise’. but at the same time, it
felt liberating – to finally have a taste of the forbidden, and allow myself to
be carried away by carelessness and total abandonment of my once familiar
world.

as I puffed and puffed my health
away with the accumulated tens, and hundreds, and perhaps thousands of revolt
sticks every time I felt I needed to affirm my own sense of individual power,
my character too, was gradually propping itself up, slowly and decisively. through
time, it exhibited its niche as it left me bewildered how abandoning my
preconceptions had actually led me to the discovery of my newfound self.

yes, it changed me. it radically
overhauled my disposition and compelled me to welcome the steady yet inevitable
progression of change. slowly but surely.

stick after stick, after stick.

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