Most of the time I’m drinking two cups of coffee, one cold, one new, and thinking about a recent lull moment I’ve had.
Wondering how far I could’ve gone down the deep-end; just self-loathing once again.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t taken a nice self-reliant drag of a cigarette in a while,
and this whole quitting-for-health-reasons-phase isn’t so much a phase anymore than just a new subject in another new chapter.
I have the gut feeling that I’ll continue to find the urge to accept the vices of my tendencies, to feel like I can rearrange the past with a
new cigarette, a new hope, and an old faith embedded in my veins.