Alcohols and Nicotine

*** The Object of My Affection ***

My lola told me once, not so long ago as from the time I found myself enchanted in the midst of all that was unpredictable and unexplainable and all that was undeniably euphoric, that when the time has come for me to "choose" that I should only choose one.

"No matter what..."

*** Time ***

How does one measure time? By the Years and months? By the hours and minutes? Or perhaps by seconds? How can "so long" be long enough and when is "enough" enough? It depends, I guess.

As for me, time measured by numbers can make "so long" seem long and "enough" seem enough but measure it by the moments, moments where you've really felt what's present, makes time change in intangible proportions. What should've been, and must've been, a long time flows unusually faster and before you knew it, another incredibly sweet and unexplainable ecstatic moment has slipped by pass your grasp and leaves you with nothing but a stupid smile on your face.

The same goes for how a short time could feel hellishly long. The more you wait, the more it just creeps disgustingly slow. The more you wish for someday or something to end, the more it insultingly stares at you while it crawls and stings you with every hourly second that passes.

We've been together for already a year now. Seems so long have passed yet everyday I'm with her will always fall on the shortest of days. It's waiting for those days that scream the longest.

I'm sensing that this will be a longer post than I would've expected and so a forewarning-this will totally bore, just like every ordinary life would. But again, it depends on how you measure time.

*** Beers and Smiles ***

I miss drinking. I miss the scent of alcohol. I miss the pungent aroma that sticks to your skin that screams of drunk and smoke. I miss the strange brew of smooth yet strong, crisp and cold texture that slides through your dry throat and into your seemingly abysmal belly. But most of all, I miss the feeling of absurdity and freedom and all that's temporal that hangs with it as it comes and goes.

I was holding this lighter on my hand. Flicked it on and held it for a while until the fire dies. It took about 5 minutes for the damn thing to burn out and suddenly a question crossed my mind as I saw myself smiling. Why are smiles quite?

For a long time now I've been contented with what I have, or that is what I've wanted to think about. There's nothing wrong, really. But there's this feeling of unspeakable uneasiness somewhere lurking in the depths of my being, and just like a smile it sits there, quietly.

The fact is, behind every piece of contentment, every moment of happiness, every second of a calm profound smile I had, is a hidden fear. A fear that one day, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I've given up and sacrificed, the object that I've been taking care and thought of the world of will disappear, burn out or slowly fade away, and the once quite smile I've been wearing foolishly will slowly change into a dismaying silent frown. If only smiles could make a bang, then the world would've known how much I smile for her.