As you get older, you really start to understand more about why people drink the night away, smoke their lungs black, or throw themselves off buildings. Isn't it strange how life can be a series of blurred edges, tangled conversations, and lingering shadows that whisper secrets of the soul? We all carry burdens upon our fractured backs, searching for a way to escape the weight that threatens to consume us.

There are nights when the world feels unbearably heavy, pressing down with a force that threatens to obliterate our fragile hearts. In those moments, the stars seem to fade, replaced by a dull ache, as if the universe itself holds its breath, waiting for our next move. It becomes tempting to reach for that bottle, to drown our sorrows in a liquid abyss, hoping to find solace in the taste of forgetfulness.

The solitary cigarette, suspended between trembling fingers, becomes a lifeline in the midst of darkness. With each inhale, the smoke curls and dances, swirling into intricate patterns of release and rebellion. It is a dance between life and death, a manifestation of our desire to escape the confines of our own existence, if only for a brief moment. We yearn for the liberation that comes with relinquishing control, even if it means...