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I have a lot of bad habits. some I don't give a shit about, some that are really not that bad, and some that just need to go. right now, one of my biggest issues is smoking. it started in high school. it was something I grew up saying I'd never do, but once the opportunity presented itself, it was way too easy and accessible not to. I rarely had to buy, and when I did, I never finished a pack because I always felt guilty. I knew it was wrong, it didn't help my dreams of becoming a world champion badminton player, but it was fun, I bonded with my classmates and it looked damn cool.

But there's nothing cool about a self-inflicted death. Death which I am so deathly (haha!) afraid of. And yet I do it, because, unfortunately, I enjoy it. People who grab the cigarette from betwixt my fingers and crush it get on my nerves. Those who point and preach work my last damn nerve. But, secretly, I wish I was like them; I wish I was repulsed by the idea of smoking, but I'm not.

I've had many moments when I'd finish smoking and I'd vow to never do it again. But before I quit I'd need just one more. But it's never the last one. and I always feel guilty because I know better. And, if that isn't enough, what would my mother think? You'd think that would make me come to my senses, but it doesn't.

Follow me now.

I love birthdays. I think that it's fantastic that everyone gets a day devoted to themselves-- even if you have to share it with millions of random people, there's always a chance that you get a baby Princess born on that day, a win-win in my book. my birthday is a big deal. I celebrate. celebrate. celebrate (and am grateful to those who indulge me). But, I love my birthday more so for what it symbolizes. It's about getting older, wiser, more mature. It allows me to reflect on where I've been, where I am now, and where I'd like to see myself. It's making sure that I don't catch myself doing the same crazy shit at 23 that I was doing at 17. See, time flies when you're having fun and being dumb.

The nature of habits is that they're routine. They may be bad but they feel oh so good in the moment. you're willing to deal with the bad times because you're hanging onto the memories of the good times. it takes strength of character to really put an end to it. or, if that's too difficult, it takes a little prod from that special day to hint that you're not getting any younger, just older and in deeper shit. but it's not about making some declaration "when i turn 23, i'm gonna get my life together," or "my New Year's resolution is to stop being a fuck up." it's a nice, friendly reminder that not because you're moving slowly means that time will.

there were habits I refused to let go of-- I thought it'd be too painful otherwise. when I finally let them go, after those few days or weeks or however long of withdrawal, it just wasn't so bad. I felt better. Rejuvenated. Hell, I'd feel like I could run miles when before I was content with walking. But I can't get there just by walking. Time goes by so quickly, I'd never be able to catch up-- and not to my peers, but to who I see myself becoming. and I can't let 24 see me like this.