Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

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

Any other day.

"I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of death from being a total surprise."

— Chuck Palahniuk.


It was easy to think that watching a replay of the entire scene in my head wouldn't instigate any harsh feelings. Perhaps it could be described as the feeling of taking the first puff of a cigarette—an unpleasant form of guilty pleasure with a hint of false confidence and leaving absolutely no impression of looking cool at all.


You can drive all night looking for the answers in the pouring rain.
You wanna find a peace of mind looking for the answer.


It is, once again, no wonder why the question "why me?" is asked—at times it goes on loops multiple times—in desperate search for an answer of some sort, even if there is no answer. Not uncommon to the ears of listeners, the ones who rant could go on repeat with that question over and over until they have convinced themselves that the question has no answer. After that, they self-convince otherwise and fall back into that loop of questioning again. Relapse, is that what they call it?


Carl Jung once said,

"Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol, morphine or idealism."


What does it feel like to be addicted?
A wonder which many people ponder about.

What more can I add on to the liberty I crave from myself?
A thought which I wonder if others think about too.

I am addicted to the thought of freedom and independence.
I am addicted to the thought of self-determination.
I am addicted to being a better person.
I am addicted to being me again.


Funny how it seems like yesterday as I recall you were looking out of place, gathered up your things and slipped away. No time at all I followed you into the hall.


 Contemplating on what movie to watch next, in attempt to enjoy the remainder of the weekend, my Spotify playlist begins to play R.I.P 2 My Youth, and Jesse Rutherford sings to me—as I would always like to believe—with the lyrics "I need a cigarette". It was a calling, so I grabbed my box and Zippo lighter and went to sit by the flowers and have some fresh air.

Finishing the first stick of the day, a man taking his dog out for a walk strolled past me. Once again, I was deliberating on a second stick and I thought to myself, heck, and lit it up anyway. This time, the man walked past me again and we had a brief exchange.

Man (Walking towards me): How many sticks do you smoke a day.
Me (Thinking for awhile before responding): I don't know, two?
[or so I would like to convince myself]

Man: I just walked past and saw you smoke one and now you're smoking another one.

Me: Maybe another two at night?

Man (Nodding his head): I only smoke when I drink.

Not knowing what to respond, I laugh as I sensed a tone of disapproval while he said that.

Man (Walking away with his dog): But I drink every day. 

Apparently, I wasn't thinking hard enough upon giving my first answer.
But his response caught me by surprise.


Cigarette daydream.


Poof! There goes my ideation of wanting to cut down smoking cigarettes with more frequent visits to the bar. In my head, I was initially wondering if one could quit an addiction with another. This man proved me wrong, in some sense, but he obviously had slightly better self-control as he didn't smoke when he wasn't drinking.

It made me think again whether I wasn't thinking hard enough, or if everyone just had their personal demons to fight. I suppose, at the same time, I probably should have given myself some credit for overcoming my anxiety as I have lost count of the number of random conversations I've had with strangers I didn't know over the past few weeks.

I like to think a lot of things, as I always tell myself, but I often forget to pride myself with each achievement of surviving a conversation without breaking down or feeling the urge to make up an excuse to leave.

While there was never a need to feel victorious over the baby steps I took out of my comfort zone to try out new stuff to self-improve—my mindfulness practices, breathing exercises, going for job interviews and even striking up conversations with new people—it became blatant to my self-awareness that I had subconsciously grew more independent and individualistic over time. Exposing myself to large crowds by taking walks at my new favourite haunt, and taking a repetitive shots of the same scenery I visit each time brought me a new meaning. Once again, this excites me as I make a decision to head down for a walk on my own by the esplanade once again to overcome my fears and get some inspiration to write.


If we could find a reason, a reason to change, looking for the answer.
If you could find a reason, a reason to stay, looking for the answer.


I would call.
You would say,
"Baby, how's your day?"
But today, it ain't the same.


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