Better for myself.

Do you ever reach that point in your life where you just want to be alone? Detach yourself from everything and be truly alone. Leave the comforts of dependency and seek comfort in solidarity. Lately, I have realized I can’t do things alone. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it’s human nature to seek comfort in others. But lately I find myself detaching from everything I believed I enjoyed and trying to find how to do things on my own.

If I have to be really honest, I hate doing things alone. Hate it. This anxiety of going off into the world and doing things by myself frightens me. Which is the reason why I put my dependency on many people. None of it is wrong, its good to be surrounded by good people. Lately, I just need a moment. A moment to myself, to be alone, do things by myself and see what happens. You don’t know who you truly are until you are faced with hours of being alone. For the past couple of months I watched myself depend on the approval of people in many aspects of my life. Whether it be in my personal life or professional life, I needed this stamp of approval from everyone. I don’t know how I got this way. Have I always been this way? This desperation of a person that seeks the approval of everyone? I don’t know what it is, but it frightens me. This need to be someone to prove to everyone else that I can be something.

I don’t have anything to prove to anyone anymore. Even lately I don’t even know what I should be proving to myself. The reality of life is that I am growing up. I don’t want to be so public with everything I do in my life. I don’t want to show everyone what I am doing. I don’t want people to know where I am going. Life isn’t one big “who can do it big and better” competition. Somewhere in the past few years I lost sight of that. When did the little screens in front of us, become more important then human interaction? I hate it. It’s a popularity competition to seek the approval of the people in the screens we see before us. I am just tired of it. Why do I care what people think of me? Why do I care if you like me or you don’t?

Lately, I haven’t felt much like myself. I have felt withdrawn, sad, angry, anxious, all for feeling alone. I never used to be that way. I could spend hours doing things that I loved without the comfort of other people. I find myself getting angry at people I shouldn’t be angry at. I hated being alone because being alone meant finding out who I really was alone. When did I stop liking myself that being alone with myself is a burden? The more that I grow up the more I realize that everyone is on their own hustle. Everyone is growing up and doing things on their own and I feel stuck. You start taking things personally that maybe you’re the problem. Instead of talking to people, I kept things to myself and starting making myself upset. I hate being alone, I hate this person I am when I am alone, why am I this way? I guess in a way you really start to realize who you are when nobody is around. Some days I don’t really like myself as much as I should.

For the next couple of months, I want to be alone. Okay I know I can’t be alone completely for months but I can be alone for moments of months. Alone with my thoughts, alone with my dreams, and alone with my nightmares. I want to miss people. I want to fall in love with people, places, and things again. More importantly I want to prove to myself that I can actually do things alone without the help of others. I want to figure things out, make mistakes, and prove to myself that I can do things alone. I want to worry less about what the tiny screen says back at me and see the faces in front of me. Maybe I have officially gone mad, but sometimes the things that frighten you the most are the things you have to do for yourself. I haven’t done things on my own for a long time, it’s time that I started.

I am disconnecting myself from social media. If you need me, you know where to find me.

Let’s see how this experiment goes.

 

 

Homecoming.

Do you think about me now and then. 

Home is where the heart is, but my heart’s already broken. You could always come home. Come home to the familiar sounds, from the familiar streets, where the familiar faces meet. Come home to where the roads point back to the familiar memories, familiar stories that make up who you are. You could always come home, you tell yourself. Home is where the heart is, but my heart has been shattered. Where do I go from here?

Life doesn’t stop because you’ve left and gone. Life goes on even when you’ve forgotten where you came from. People grow up after saying they never would. People change when they said they’d stay the same. But I’m still figuring out this life I see before me. Failing, falling, sinning, and watching everything that’s familiar change before me. We’re all in a changing game and memories are all that’s left of this nostalgic ship that’s sinking. But I can’t change when I am not ready too. I can’t change when I need something to hold on too.

Watching seasons change in my hometown, the colors turn from gold to brown. I could always come home. Come home to the people that grow up from their juvenile tendencies. Watch familiar faces start families and mold their kids to make up their past mistakes. We’re afraid of our pasts, so we grow up in our present. Breaking hearts in ourselves that don’t dent the armor in our future. Don’t be like me, don’t be like you, change everything you once were into something you could never be. We all need a clean slate to change into who we want to be. Leaving hometowns and starting some place better than this.

I could go from here to there and everywhere, but coming home always breaks my heart. Faces are changing faster than seasons do. People are leaving before they get driven out, because everything that was once familiar is dead and gone. There’s nothing for me now. There’s nothing in this town but coming home means starting over and changing everything now. Home is where the heart is, but I don’t know where home is now.

Where do I belong.

3/13/2009

I left my heart in San Francisco.

I left my heart in San Francisco, but you still haunt the streets. It’s hard to imagine a living person could haunt your waking day, but you do. Your ghosted memories are trapped beneath the steps, where we once held hands, and believed the city was ours. Beneath the street lights and cable cars, where you once said she meant more to you then I ever could. It was always someone else, and someone else loving you more than I ever could. I could never compete. Maybe you were right, because loving a person more than I ever could, would never be right.

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The city I once felt solidarity with was slowly tearing me apart. Keeping images of you, every step that I turned. I watched as the days when you left, turned to months. As my tears vanished into the misty fog, that swallows this city in the under belly of the sun. There are flowers in my hair and the drinks are endless to drink you goodbye. But you stand before me on the steps I take to rid myself of you. You walk toward me in the sounds of a haunting melody on the streets. You wait for me on the hilltops of the parks where we once said, this could never be over. I find myself retracing my steps back to find you. Its what you do, haunt the ones you could never love to love you more than she ever could. I was a fool to believe I could. Believe that I could love anyone as much anyone else could.

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This city traps you in believing in things that no longer exist. The ghosts of you and me roam the streets, but slowly I see us vanishing into the misty fog haze that wraps around this city. Maybe I never loved you as much as she did, but for a moment I thought I could. I wanted to love you as much as I loved this city. How the chill in the air could seep to your bones and make you feel alive. How the people could go everywhere and still return to that city by the bay. For a moment I believed that we could go our separate ways and find ourselves right back into this city. I was wrong. Sometimes you have to leave your heart in places you love the most. To rid yourself of believing in people that are now haunted ghosts in your memory.

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How could I leave my heart in a city so grand and yet find you still haunting the steps I walk upon. Every step I take you’ve already taken. Every bus line, every train stop, a memory of you floats back into my memory. I left my heart on the doorsteps between the city and here. I left you reciting back words that stay etched inside the walls of every sky scraper I see in my mind. This city had to show me. I had to watch you fall in love with girls that only break your heart. But here in this city is where I leave you. Here in this city is where I leave my heart.

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There will always be people after you. People I will love that will love me more than I ever could. But these days I go searching the streets of the city to find what I left so long ago. Find what I fell in love with before and after you left me. Its this city that transplants your heart back to life and I can never love anything else. I left my heart in San Francisco but you no longer haunt the streets.

My love waits there in San Francisco
Above the blue and windy sea
When I come home to you, San Francisco
Your golden sun will shine for me

5/5/2012

 

You might think I’m bulletproof but I’m not.

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It takes a day where the weather changes and freezes your insides. A day like this that has you remember the past. One small change of the weather and your soul is exposed for the world to see. At any moment any word can cause an effect of water works. Larger than any ocean. One huge tidal wave of emotions that no matter how much you hold out your hands, everything comes crashing through.

Its okay to reflect. It’s okay to remember. Remembering that at one point in your life you loved so deeply, it hurt every muscle in your body. It doesn’t matter how often you go through changes like a chameleon, changing stripes to spots. It doesn’t take away the feeling of emptiness. This vacant haunting feeling that no matter what you do, you can’t escape from. Memories come back to haunt you while you sleep, no matter how much you suppress them in your waking life. You loved and you lost, is what you tell yourself. Just one big armor you wear to keep from falling apart. Keep from getting hurt. You watch the water rise and wash against you, still you stand very still. Being still is better than falling apart.

You could write a book on how to ruin someone’s perfect day

The countless times you’ve been knocked down, pushed around, and you walk away with every tear that continues to shed. Its the salt water that comforts but never heals. Every time you walk away, it’s a song, a saying, a sentence, or even tiny change in the weather, that stops you in your tracks and you can’t help but remember. It hits you to straight to your core, worse than any words could. You loved, you lost and you couldn’t help yourself but to move on. Because loving someone this much should never hurt as much as it does. Loving someone to the point of breaking doesn’t make us bulletproof from ourselves.

Why, do you have to make me feel small
So you can feel whole inside
Why, do you have to put down my dreams
So you’re the only thing on my mind

I walk around with this armor around my heart, unable to feel the cold in my bones. This armor that hides my emotions from the next person. I am bulletproof. Everything you shot at me bounces off back to you. But on the days where the weather changes the leaves from green to yellow to brown, its when I can’t fight back. Its when a little bit of the cold, hits at my insides and I am exposed to the world. Live and learn, love and loss. Eventually the weather changes and I go on my way. Every once in a while, I slip. I hear a song, a melody, words, and I am right back where I started from. Think what you will about me but sometimes being strong doesn’t give me strength.

You might think I’m bulletproof, but I’m not.

11/23/2008

High For This.

I’ve stared at a dozen ceilings in my lifetime. Studying the lights, the vents, the outline of the spaces between the moldings and the walls. Every nook and cranny. Every inch that distance between four walls could take you. It becomes an obsession to finding sanity. An obsession to hide behind the scenes to find a sense of piece of mind.

I’ve written a thousand love letters that flow along the texture from the sky from which I look upon. To thousands of boys that never mattered to the hundreds of boys that never knew. Questions unanswered by the fears of my conscious state and paralyzing present. I don’t know what I am doing anymore. I don’t know how much longer this can go on. I find sanity in secrets and hiding behind these four walls and looking high above where I can see. Maybe I should keep fucking up, feeling fucked up, and just let it all go. Maybe then I’ll find a purpose for these feelings instead of hiding where no one can see me. Or maybe I’ll just keep fucking up with my fucked up way of feeling.

I watch the morning light turn to moonlight, from the rays of light that illuminate the room. I am right here but I am miles away from here. I’ve memorized the ceilings from every place I’ve been too. Every place I’ve laid my head down. The feeling remains the same. A thousand unspoken words spread across the sky, hidden in the dark overlooking these four walls. Words unsaid in the fear of being too honest, too sincere, too fucking fucked up to really say exactly how I feel. This is my crown of thorns, my kingdom of doom in secrets held above the ceilings behind these four walls.

But you are who you are behind these four walls and high ceilings. Not someone you pretend to be outside in the crippling universe where no one understands you. I’ve fucked up so many times. I just can’t help myself. I am fucking up and I have myself to blame. These four walls and high ceilings keep me safe even when all I have is myself to blame.

7/7/2015

His name starts with a…

Patience is a virtue.

So I’ve heard.

Everyone is in a rush to get their lives started that they often forget to live in the moment. We rush to grow up that we forget to have a childhood. We rush to jump start a career and forget to live our lives. We jump through hoops, take shortcuts, all for this impatience to see what the future holds for us. I know how that goes all too well. I find myself fixated with this idea of who I am going to be 5 years from now, that I forget to focus on this person in my present. I am looking toward the future instead of focusing on my present. Looking ahead and not seeing whats in front of me. I am guilty, I am aware of that. Every once in a while I like to poke fun at myself and my impatience. I start looking toward the universe to give me a sign of whats to come. I look into superstitions. I look into signs. I basically look into every aspect of the supernatural to get a tiny glimpse of what is coming toward me in the near future. Deja vu is real people! Coincidences don’t just happen! There’s a meaning and explanation behind everything. Because of my impatience toward the future, I tend to put my amusement and sometimes trust into things I normally shouldn’t. Whats the harm that can happen right?

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I have always been fascinated by people’s ability to sense emotions. This unseen way to read people. I know it sounds crazy but stories have to come from some aspect of truth. Which is what drew me to the allure of seeing a Psychic. That and Pee Wee’s Big Adventure (even though she was bogus). Sure a lot of what they say is just things you want to hear. Personal growth, moving from the past, and finding the trigger that makes you feel something. I am not saying that all of it is bogus. If you go into it all in good fun, you leave just with what you needed. Psychics/Spiritual Advisors/Readers/Prophets, whatever they are calling themselves these days, I’ve seen them all. The first psychic I saw was in a fair the summer of 2000. No big deal, $5 dollars for a palm reading. Whats the worst that can happen? I went into it all in good fun. To humor myself, it can’t be that bad. The reading produced a lot of the same generic answers: “You will move to a big city”, “you will make lots of money”, “you will meet the man of your dreams”, etc.  Of course at 17, I was extremely gullible. I was moving to a big city. I wanted to make lots of money and of course I wanted to meet the man of my dreams! After paying $5 dollars for a palm reading and another $20 dollars for a crystal (that would attract the man of my dreams), I was hooked. It’s all in good fun right? Just an entertainment to cure my nerves of the upcoming future. Months passed and I was hooked. I started believing in signs. Believing things were coming to me, I just had to be patient. The future showed all the great things to come, I just have to wait for it.

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For the next 15 years, I’ve had my palm, cards, shells, and aura read. Always going into the situation with a grain of salt. I shouldn’t believe these things. I shouldn’t put any power behind what I am looking into. Then a crazy coincidence would happen, that I would count as a sign. A silver lining development into what I have heard. Maybe it was the positivity they give you after a reading. This rush you feel, that you could do anything. Every reading comes with a disclaimer good or bad, its what the stars have in-store for you. How does someone not feel suckered into that? Its what I took away from the readings, good or bad. For better or worse. Whether it was something that I needed to hear or something that I needed clarification on. Sometimes we need a little push to get our gears in motion. Sometimes we need a little clarification on things that are troubling in our heart. So I went against my better judgement and looked to signs, the universe, and waiting for things to happen. I knew what I was getting into. I knew with every reading a piece of myself stayed there. That I would move to bigger cities. Live by elements of water. Find everything I was looking for once I started looking for it. Then in 6 months life would change once I started living it. That a few years from now, my situation would change and I would ease into my new transitions. Truth is I loved hearing about the future. I loved it so much that I dragged my feet in my present because I knew my future was gonna be amazing. 15 years later, I am 30 and broke, still waiting on these signs that the future its going to be swell. I wanted this reassurance of the future. This pat on the back that everything was going to be okay. I needed a complete stranger that I paid to tell me things about myself that I already knew. I needed someone to save me from this feeling of failure and tell me that good things were just around the corner.

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Truth of the matter is life changes in 6 months. Good or bad. People have the capacity of change from days to weeks from where we started. While I loved humoring myself with this supernatural hocus pocus, none of it was really real. The signs are everywhere, you just have to give everything a shot and do things yourself. You’re not the same person you were 6 months ago and 5 years from today who knows where you’ll be. I was so fixated on the idea that I needed to know who I am going to be, instead of preparing myself for who I wanted to be. It’s all in good fun and what I have learned from seeing all these different types of people is to remain positive about the future, good or bad. Go into life like you go into the psychic, all in good fun and with an open mind. Life isn’t suppose to be perfect, it isn’t suppose to be easy. While I don’t know where I’ll be 5 years from now, I just have to focus on the person I can be tomorrow. The last psychic I saw told me that 3 months from now my life was going to change. She was right. 3 months from now, my life will change. And like all the others I won’t be the same person I was yesterday or 3 months from now. But I don’t need a psychic to tell me things I already know about myself.

In the event any psychic are wondering, his name doesn’t start with a “J”.

I’m single. Thank you.

How to Disappear Completely.

I want to disappear.

Disappear into the mist of a haunting song. Be lost in the melody and forgotten between the bars. I am not there, I am not anywhere. I want to race toward the dark and hide within the sounds of sorrowing goodbyes.

I do this to myself. I do this on my own. I am not there. If you saw me, you wouldn’t see right through me. If you saw me, I wouldn’t need to disappear.

I watch the memories tarnish and turn shades of bronze. I watch people come and go as they please and burn themselves brightly in the sun. But I am not there. I watch myself drop beneath the shallow graves into the ground. I watch as one by one of my scars open up slowly. I am bleeding turning black and blue, but you don’t see me. I’ll be gone before you know it. I’ll be gone before the words reach you.

I am crystal clear in the sunlight days, but now I bleed black and blue. If only I could outstretch my arms to the skies and reach straight to the stars. If only I could pretend that a little light is better than no light at all. Slowly I sink beneath the hollow ground beneath the earth and silently turn to dust.

I am not there.
I am disappearing.
I am leaving.

Gone.

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7/10/2015

?M = To Change Sh*t.

I think about change as often as the next person. Change of scenery, change of pace, change of environment, and all that jazz. We’re all ready for that next step, on that next level hustle, but seldom do we ever take that chance. All it takes is a little bit of courage to take that chance to make that change. Sounds easy right? But why are we so afraid of doing everything we set out to do? I find myself making up excuses about why I can’t change, instead of just fucking changing. I can change right? I can do whatever, I set myself out to do. Because the world is my fucking oyster.

Of course I like the idea of change. This idea of change that films and coming of age stories tell you happen. But what about the rest of us that have responsibilities? Change can happen, after you pay off debts and start being positive. Change can happen with a change of attitude and believing in yourself. Because all it takes is a great attitude to turn everything around. Sometimes you’re burned out on positivity that it feels better to bring back that good old haunting feeling. This dark cloud that follows you everywhere changing all these new beginnings right to that old familiar feeling. Even new experiences can burn you out. Even things you wanted to be better for you, put a damper on your expectations. The things we wished for ourselves have a funny way of not being what we want them to be. We take jobs to pay the bills and eventually those jobs become our life. We in turn start to hate these jobs because of the way they make us feel. I hated every single one of my jobs and the reason being I was afraid of change. Afraid of going out on a limb because that’s where the fruit is.

You know you’re burned out from office jobs when every job that requires an 8 to 5, you hate after a week. After 10 plus years of the same job, all programs start looking the same: Foresite, AS400, JD Edwards, etc. Each one is the efficient way to handle business. These programs are all “The way of the future”, and every other similar saying. Basically they are all the same fucking program, but you are too polite to say otherwise. All the same boring ass programs that you’ve been programed to believe are “The way of the future”. You start your morning going through the motions of work, when really you are miles away from your boring ass responsibilities. I can’t even begin to tell you how many programs I’ve worked with that are considered to the new approach to everything. When in reality they waste more paper and do the same functions as all the other programs. What does it matter anyway, I am making money. I have a job and should be grateful for my chances. Its not that I am ungrateful, I am grateful. Its that knowingness in my gut that I should be doing something else. Something better than pushing paper and smiling, when I feel like screaming and lighting everything on fire. But I am a sucker in the belief that “Good things, come to those who wait”, so waiting is what I do.

Thats where I have it wrong. This waiting for the good things to happen. Waiting on good things that everyone else snatches up, and I get upset about. Because the grass is always greener on the other side. Who ever said “Good things come to those who wait”, was a sucker. A sucker in all the sense of the words. Sure good things come to those who wait, but to the people who actually go out and do shit, better amazing things happen too. I guess after everything I was just used to this fallback, that if everything went wrong I had my fallback job. I was good at listening to directions and having a follow through. I was good at doing my job and handling everyone else’s responsibilities. I was good at taking the fall when everyone else took the praise. Thats what makes me such a great assistant, I was good at cleaning up the messes that nobody else wanted to do. Because waiting for things to happen was my escape, this belief that things were going to get better once people took a look at me.

The last job I had I just didn’t have the passion for. Sure it’s easy to fake passion, I was a master of it. I thrive on challenges and pushing myself, but this time I just couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t care about a fallback. I didn’t care about the outcomes of my mistakes. I didn’t care if everything fell apart and I was the cause of it. I was miserable and burned out on my tired excuses of “Good things, happen to those who wait”. You reach that point in your life where you have to ask yourself “What’s more important, your pride or a paycheck?”. Bills will eventually be paid. Debt continuously will always take control of your life but sometimes you have to do something great. When every time you look at the screen and you want something greater you do everything in your power to be great. Sometimes you are better than your job. Sometimes you are better than cleaning up other peoples mistakes. More importantly you’re better than everyone’s expectations of you and one day all that hustling pays off. Life its too great to be sitting in a cubicle from 8am to 5pm just waiting and wishing for things to happen. We are all going to struggle from time to time but in the end we come out victorious.

For every program I worked on there was always a command to change your options. The last job I worked at was “?M”, to modify what you save on the screen. The reality was I saw it as “?M”= To change shit. Thats what I’m going to do, “?M” to change shit in my life. To be greater, to be better, and everything else will fall into place.

I’m about to see a million things
I thought I’d never see before and I
I’m about to do all of the things
I’ve dreamed of and
I don’t even miss you at all

6/29/2014

Just Breathe.

Breathe in, Breathe out.

Just breathe and the moment will pass. Breathe in all the light, exhale all the dark. I am watching everyone see right through me. Looking through my insides and making me feel small. Because small is what makes everyone feel grand and larger than life. I watch the people surround me, turn into giant monsters of their former selves. Piercing my skin that hides my insides. I can’t take it anymore. Pushing the feelings away and save them for another day. Any other day but today. My chest feels heavier than normal. My heart feels more than it should. The more I breathe in, the faster I see myself exhale. It will all be okay, I am going to be okay.

Breathe.

No matter how many times I tell myself this will pass, it just intensifies even more. I feel it in my bones and straight to my soul. In these moments, I want to say everything I feel inside. Tell everyone, I am not the crazy one. I am not crazy, I feel a little out of it, but I am okay. I sit in silence and wait for this all to pass. A wave of emotions just washes over me. This tsunami of emotions that suffocates my breathing. I am afraid and the fear paralyzes me. Afraid of the risk of bursting out every single one of my feelings that I keep bottled up inside myself. Everyone can see right through me. My demeanor is crystal clear and everyone is looking inside of me. Maybe they are right. I should give up all these ghosts and make myself feel fine. Yet the good days turn to bad days and I can’t help but see smoke. I’m burning up on the inside. Everyone sees it. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep myself together. I am slowly falling apart with every thought I get. My lungs are closing in and I can’t breathe.

It happens to the best of us. Even people that you’d never expect it to happen to. I’ll smile real big and pretty, if it will make you feel better. I’ll tell you what you want to hear. Because breathing never gets easier. Even I know that.

7/4/2015

Cigarettes & Coffee.

I miss smoking and I know I shouldn’t.

Before I get a million lectures on the subject, let me say it out in the open, I miss it. I miss the ritual of it. The lighting, the inhaling and the slow exhaling. I miss the solidarity of the moment. How you could be surrounded by hundreds of people, but when you needed an escape the cigarette was your alibi. It relaxed you and calmed the shakes that trembled from your chest to your fingertips. The moment you tapped your first pack and took off its wrapper, it opened something inside of you. The smells of tobacco and the memories a smell holds with it. This familiarity that something so bad could make the worries of the moments disappear.

Inhale, exhale.

I disappeared in every smokey haze. Hiding from the world without a moments notice. The countless conversations I reasoned with myself with every puff I gave. Its something I never got with breathing. A sensation that never felt obtainable with just the air in my lungs. I loved it, then hated it. I denied it, then craved it. Something to take the edge of life, off of my hands. I could disappear in this cloudy, smokey, haze. Disappear into the smoke, where no one would find me. Have a moment with myself that I could never get with the open air and clear views.

I miss cigarettes like I miss conversations. Because all the meaningful conversations happen outside at night around 1 am, with the street lights illuminating your smoke. Your mouth slowly forming words and phrases. I miss that. This smell that stuck to every inch of your skin and lingered over all your overcoats. Breathing in the cold air and flowing inside every inch of your lungs. I felt it like a breaking heart, like a sad song with an upsetting melody. My body craves it on the dark days when I have nothing left to say. But it’s bad. It’s all bad for me. The ash, the smoke and the light that burns until I have nothing left.

I feel stuck. Finding something to take away the craving. Locating the thing I can sit with to find a single word of conversation. I could stare into the bottom of every cup of coffee. I could sit and stare for hours at the water that dyes every inside of every cup. I feel nothing, I crave something more. After ever last drop of coffee, nothing gives you satisfaction as that last drag of a cigarette.

God, I miss it. I miss it.

1/3/2015