Every time I exhale those vulgar curls of white smoke, I secretly hope for my respiratory system to fail.
Every time I intoxicate myself,  I hope to remain muddled and inebriated for as long as I can.

I came home quite tipsy but still sober, partially. I lay on my bed. My room was unnaturally silent. I took deep breathes of the cold December air, and there I felt it. An ache blossomed from my heart like how blood would spread all over a white t-shirt. I heard whispers from the ghost of my past and my inferiority complex reminding me of the things that I don't wish to be reminded of. Those despondent thoughts, they've clung on to me like a swirl of ghosts. I was paralyzed by the overwhelming plethora of emotions felt at once. My body did not hold the capacity to contain all these emotions. The last thing I remembered was waking up to a soaked pillow, I  cried myself to sleep...

 I'm still waiting for the day to come, where I can fully love and appreciate myself.