Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

set my midnight sorrow free.

I am awfully greedy; I want everything from life. I want to be a woman and to be a man, to have many friends and to have loneliness, to work much and write good books, to travel and enjoy myself, to be selfish and to be unselfish... You see, it is difficult to get all which I want. And then when I do not succeed I get mad with anger.

- Simone de Beauvoir


She put down the bottle, determined that her problems would not be resolved by drowning it with the burning sensation whilst filling the bladder uncomfortably full. Perhaps she liked the feeling; perhaps she'd gotten used to it - the feeling of utmost discomfort; the feeling of misery.

Was there a possibility of an addiction to misery?

She jolly well knew that an addiction to misery was unhealthy, unnecessary and she had to get out of it. The first step was putting down the bottle, and starting a conversation with the cute guy she just met.


A simple introduction. His voice sent a chill down her back, the butterflies swirling around her stomach. She felt like she wasn't ready for this. She was all ready to back out, to stop the butterflies from banging into the walls of her stomach so vigorously.

You don't know me.

A response. A huge mistake she had made, thinking she could take a step out and pull down the curtains. She was to run now, run and not come back to this place again.

He placed his hand on her arm, holding her back. It was somehow comforting yet a little too close for comfort. Somehow they had something in common, something which she did not expect. They had this connection.

The butterflies fell to the bottom of the stomach, they stopped fluttering around like drunkards. She was ready to leave them be and just run away with him, the cute guy she just met. Talk about being a risk taker, she was pushing her limits. Hopefully she made the right choice.

Fast forward four years.

The butterflies were gracefully exploring the stomach walls again. She glanced at her watch, waiting. Right on time, the door clicked open. The cute guy she met back then walked into the room, wearing a smart formal suit, while she was wearing the widest smile her lips could stretch. She ran into him, leapt into his arms like a romance flick while he spun her around.

Hey, beautiful.

His voice sent a chill down her back again. It was a good thing, and she was getting used to it. She was all ready for this to be for real. This time she was ready.

Hey, handsome.

A response, followed by a peck on the cheek. No mistakes, no regrets, this time she was sure. There was this connection that would never dissipate.

She picked up the empty bottle which he had kept, from the first time they met. She looked through it, seeing the hostile world she was born into. Wars, explosions, all the nightmares, all the hatred, inside the bottle. She reminisced the moments when she felt hostility emitting from everyone around her, how she wanted to vent her anger everywhere. The vengeance stopped as his hand was placed reassuringly on her arm again, and he moved her hand slowly to put down the bottle. The bottle was a reminder of the tough times she's been through but now she doesn't need that. She has him, the cute boy she met when she was at her weakest, the risk she took, and the promises she made to him.

The reality beyond the bottle was much better.



i will give you all of me.


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