The Black Diary is a symbolic segment that is created to tell the secret story of your struggle. This segment is for those brave-hearts fighting their silent battles every day & night. Let the world know your battle because you’re not alone. Few in this world of billions are ready to reach out to help you, or you can just finally let out those negative vibes out.
The fading spark of the cigarette brights up as I take another long drag contemplating the future that I’d like to have, or at least wants. The cold night breeze flirts with my hair while the partially clouded sky bestow upon myself the past of the cosmos as I marinate in my addiction, one last time. Headphones on my head makes it easy for me to escape the reality of a decade of abuse that I had unleashed upon me.
“How much do you smoke?”, I remember the question asked by a close friend on a similar night and all I could do was come up with a lie.
“A pack.”, I had said with a straight face though the truth was way different as I smoked more than 2 packs a day. That’s around 20 to 25 sticks in less than 16 hours.
I always thought that I smoke because I like it but it’s hard to cone in term with the reality that I am just like other addicts who would come with any delusional reasoning to continue their addiction. I suddenly got into a fit of cough as I brainstorm the past, the present, and the uncertain future. How could I let myself stoop so low in my own bloody life? I don’t even remember the last time I ran and didn’t have to stop because I was out of breath rather than getting tired. I let myself slip away for the worse as I take another drag from the dreadful pleasure.
“I need to quit.”, I told myself for the hundredth time though the past track record makes this look like yet another hollow promise.
The more I think the more I hate myself as there is at even an ounce of self love left within me. This got to be the first time ever since my depression days that I have concluded to hating myself. Depression was the phase when I picked up the first cigarette and depression is where I am heading if I continue walking down this path. It is not going to be easy just like the failed attempts in past but I need to stay away from this. I drag the last puff as it was time to say goodbye to the best relationship of my life that would eventually would kill me. I am like the bug that can’t stay away from the flames but will surely die if I fly too close. That’s what I feel at this moment but the only difference is that, in reality, I am not just mere bug but a man with a rational brain.
So, it’s time to exercise the rationality.
I threw the dead bud of the cigarette down as I crush it for one last time. The relationship might have ended but the healing is yet to begin as I step away from the crashed cigarette bud. It is embarrassing as to how one can romanticize such an unhealthy habit but then that’s what a storyteller does, play with words. I guess it is better to play with words than to play with my life.
Thus, I begin the torturesome journey of life without relying on any drug. I call it quits. Peace out as I take a nap with some pride still intact.
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