Outlet

I should be taking a drag right now. 

It's strange, to be honest, how I have been nicotine-dependent these past few days. Well, not entirely dependent but I guess you can almost say that. I've never been a fan of smoking. You can never be a fan of something that almost killed you when you were eleven. But as they say, nothing is permanent except change.

That's another thing. I've been using too much cliche sentences these past few weeks. Something I was never really fond of. 

Perhaps, it is but a sign of the times. That everything in me is changing. Or that, I might still be caught in this undying crisis that hampers my development as a person.

Even as a child, I have always been the type who finds happiness in asking questions. I never really got past that stage. I guess the inquisitive one can never get past it. Questions may breed answers but these answers give birth to new questions in return. You continue finding the meaning, the reason behind everything, and then you will get to the point wherein you will ask why are you asking questions in the first place. Which is funny, because that in itself, is another question demanding an answer.

What happened to me? Am I the same old person that I was five years ago? If I am different now, are these changes significant enough to make me a completely different person? If such is the case, will I still be able to say that everything I am now is a product of the past when what I am now does not even show a single mark of how my past was like? Will I still be the same five years from now?

Last night, I stumbled upon a forum I used to frequent back when I was younger. The feeling was surreal. It's like reading the thoughts of a stranger. I cringed, frowned, got annoyed, felt embarrassed. It was hard to swallow... the fact that I show spite to a younger version of myself.

But as I am writing this, I think that perhaps I am still that old me. Even though I am no longer that seventeen year old who speaks too fast in an attempt to catch all the thoughts running wildly inside her chaotic mind, the thoughts are still there. Zooming, bustling, flooding my consciousness. I don't know but maybe, five or ten years from now, my future self will read this and scoff because "my 20's self is so embarrassing". 

Somewhere while writing the above paragraphs, I've lost the reason why I decided to write this blogpost in the first place. I'm sure it's not just to fill in the emptiness of a year in the archives. 

I know for sure I still have a lot of things to write. This dilemma regarding the matters of the heart and that final exam for our Writing Class.

I think I should finish that pack of Ice Blast first. There's only one stick left, anyway. Who knows what strange things my smoke-soaked mind would come up to again that I might write here once more.