Of cigarettes and coffee

10th. Counting sticks of sin that was too hard to resist. I promised myself I would stop. But every blow feels like travelling around places I’ve never been. It’s an adventure, an escape, a temporary peace. My sweaty hands are trembling as I speak. Left hand on the cigs, right one on the keyboard. My second coffee for the day’s sitting on my desk. Multi-tasking to balance the chaos in my mind. Too much lines and circles in it, too many shades of colors I’m finding it so challenging to pick. Sometimes I ask myself, why do I keep doing the bad things? And how come the bad makes me feel good? Have you ever felt that too?

I wonder.

Maybe it’s all in my head. No caffeine or nicotine should be blamed. It’s all inside me. Or maybe it’s in all of us. Isn’t it? The urge to starve for pleasure, to seek for comfort, to learn how to completely embrace yourself and to look for peace within you. The questions that were scattered all over you that haunt you every night. And the answers you’re too eager to grasp but are nowhere to find.

And it terrifies you. The fights and the loss. And the undying hunger to win and soar. Hence you settle for the numbness that cigarettes and coffee provide, to stop you from overthinking and to make yourself happy.. even for a short while.

Took the last sip. That final drop of the black coffee that was no longer hot. Black, I prefer it black. The darkness of it seems to give light to every nerve in me that was sleeping. That’s what I like about my coffee––it renews me. It renews me as it disturb the regularity of the beats of my heart. It’s bad for me, I know. But what can I do? If I enjoy savouring the bad by seeing the goodness of it, should I stop? 

I wonder. Maybe, just maybe… it’s all in my head. 



Note: Title was inspired by a story called Of Hornets and Butterflies written by one of the greatest writers I look up to in WordPress. Thanks for the inspiration, Hyperion 🙂

Invisible fear

I was listening carefully with every beat of it.

I put my right hand to my chest, to feel the message it brings.

I was bewildered by its deafening noise—it’s making me sick.

It seems like I was hearing a beat resembling them ones in horror movies.

Trying to decode the fear I can perfectly hear.

Is this even real?

Where does this fear come from?

Is this the fear of being alone or the fear of losing?

Oddly speaking, I couldn’t seem to find out its true meaning.

Perhaps, both or maybe I’m just hallucinating.

For a moment, I stared at the cup in front of me and then brushed off this phase of overthinking…

I sighed whilst smiling when I figured out I’m only palpitating…

this strong coffee is all but to blame.


(Photo credit to Pinterest)