The night was cold. A normal sound of the city trickled through the gaps of the windows. Each waves nonchalantly riding along till it hits a brick wall.  Her sincere voice speaking her intentions of helping unsettles the unsettled. I choose to be a mess because this self-inflicted chaos is my lullaby that helps me get some sleep.  Sleeping is not that soothing but counts for something; it has to.

I turn on my side. The calm face of this stray that I had picked up. Is she the reason I didn’t get a cat to pre-occupy my time with? My hand raised and gently placed a loose strand back where it theoretically should belong. She stirred gently just like a cat. May we just be like this? Like an organized clutter with no signs of progression, we are all just still and predictable.

‘You can’t keep smoking and thinking all is fine.’

The woman’s voice interrupts again. Did the Gods make her splash water at the imbecile in my café for fun? Did he one day looked down and went nope time to add the salt and pepper? Or is the age of 25 a good year to start getting my sh*t in order? I turned back onto my back. I need a stick.

Getting up, I swiftly took my pack out of the coat. Heading to the balcony, this time remembering to slide the partition in place, I lit and inhaled my toxics. I can smoke and know it is not fine. The first exhale always feels the sweetest. The subsequent ones are less impactful and more habitual. In a sense, I am making sure I smoke all the terrible that my won had paid for. I am being frugal.

I let out the sixth puff. There is something calming when the sleepless nights become less of a fear and more of a familiarity. Insomnia is that silent annoying friend that sticks around. You don’t like the presence but yet you aren’t all that disturbed by the shadow. ‘Why, oh why, am I awake and having this useless monologue?’ I mumbled towards the night sky. The eight exhale was effortless.

‘You can’t keep smoking and thinking all is fine.’

Out of sight and not out of mind, I must be totally out of my mind. How am I letting this kindergarten counselor affect me to such a degree? Am I really that much of a child? I would like to think that I had matured with time. Then again, after all these years, the hold that night has on me, so what if the years had passed. I am still that girl with the knife. I am still the one who was reckless in her brand of self-righteousness.

I placed the stick up as it was in her hands. The smoke danced upwards in its own little trance. I glanced up at the night sky. Smirked then looked straight down at the hard gravels of the streets. I flicked the stick down and watch as I littered. The lifeless stick bounces off the ledge then took a quick dive down three stories. It lands softly, presumably, in the grass patch below. ‘Appa.’ I greeted. ‘Here is to the flames that engulfes both of us.’