The familiar scent of
The red Dunhill cigarettes lingers in the air as she stood there, breathing it in
passively-wifts of episodic memories refreshing itself, triggerring her
amygdala to excrete a myriad of emotions as she was transported back to her
youth-Her raging youth.
****
7 years ago:
She likes her balcony.
A place where she gravitates to when she's at the extremes of her emotions. It
was her place of personal escapism and this time round, she needed an escape
from a baggage that has been weighing her down for far too long. In a swift
movement, she lighted her ciggarette and rolled her eyes as she inhaled the
first puff. In the 20 years she has lived, that always seemed to have triumphed
any other feelings she has ever felt-the semi sweet burning sensation that
wraps around her throat for a few seconds, leaving her somewhat satisfied. Calm
perhaps, but happily contend in her own little bubble.
A can of redbull
accompanied her otherwise solo company. She allowed herself to savour the
silence of the night, gazing at the fine few stars that still miraculously
appear despite having to compete with the city lights. Since it was her last
stick, she took her time with the cigarette, making a mental note to get a
fresh packet later on. As she put out the burning amber end, she hurried into
her room to get a couple of polaroid pictures that were stuck on her wall and
her journal.
She looked through the
pictures-over and over again.
She scoffed inwardly
at the happy smiles that was reflected upon the photographs and began
scribbling in her journal with a furious rage:
17/4/2005
You know my heart sinks deeper into it's cavity when your lips
meet my neck and your breath hits my skin. I become weakened and overwhelmed
with it's effect to the point I find myself struggling to find air, but at the
same time, not wanting it to end.
Your lips-my neck,
Your breath-my skin.
I miss you.
It's moments like this I miss you. Moments when solitude engulfs
me from within and I begin to enjoy the serenity. Until of course the memories
of you, pensieve, yet solid manifest itself in visions of my thoughts. Part of
me craving for you non-existensial existence to enjoy the solitude with me.
My brain used to be fuzzy. It felt like every information that
penetreated in seemed to be clouded by the mess accumulated in my brain. One
big effing tangled mess. But somehow, those knots untangled themselves with
time and I find myself somewhat liberated-not entirely free from your memories,
but somewhat lighter. I need your memories, they have become integrated with me
as an individual but they're no longer haunting me like before.
She paused and
realised she had nothing more to fill in. She sighed deeply.
Deeply.
