tacenda

i keep my cigarettes in the same drawer as my letters.

it serves as a reminder for myself, of mistakes i have done, people i had hurt. even reminds me of times i got hurt.

nicotine and words. a curious combination. smooth and addictive, yet hazardous, either to body or soul. i'm not quite sure which one does more damage. the pack of smokes, or the stack of letters that have been read over and over again.

it's not that the letters were written in a bitter state with malicious intent. in fact, they were well-meaning. even more than that, they were vows of friendship. promises, which were eventually broken. 

i made a vow to myself, as part of one of my new year's resolution, to not throw my words around. to mean what i say, and say what i mean. i wanted to quit making empty promises, and be true to my word. because people deserve that. especially in a society where promises are apparently meant to be broken.

i only wish you had meant what you wrote.