Whatever habit I do will always remain on my fingertips.
That morning after, when I wake up, the smell of desperate sticks I intake and stress I let go still stuck on my hair will remind me.
That the smell of the words and ideas I try to drown with every cup of coffee still remain in my breath.
That the smell of every invigorating bottle that gives life to my zombie-like week stays on my lips (or my head or tummy, or wherever it wants to stay).
That by midnight, my fingers will smell of wood or metal from the table that I share with friends, a witness to the secrets shared and uttered thoughts.
That my laughter and yours, too, will smell of candies in our desperate attempt to cover for our habits.
That my skin will smell of sweat from the miles I try to run each passing day through my head.
That my clothes will remind me of romance, and of how I thought about you as I wore them.
That my sheets will always be a reminder of a comfort you could not give.
That my shoulders will always smell of kisses or hugs or tears that you choose to give me.
As I smell my fingers, I know I can never run away from the things I chose to do – whether you think they are good or bad. Some things feel so criminy and I choose to forget. I can never run away.
I will always be reminded.