Maturity

Everytime I would pass by that small space before the stairs of the LRT station in Vito Cruz, my eyes would immediately set on the boxes of cigarettes an old man is selling. It seems like only yesterday when I last puffed one, and I know for sure that I want to puff another one. Again.

Before enrolling in my current school, I thought I already got over with pepang mania (pepang=cigarette) and I can easily survive college life without having to increase my carbon monoxide levels and smell like dead rat or something. Since I already tried the habit and consequently found out that my body doesn't like nicotine the same way it adores all types of edible chocolate, I presumed that fumes of cigs won't make any difference on my decision to refuse to smoke all throughout my life. So yeah, there I was on my first day, passing by the famous agno without even thirsting for a cancer stick. I thought from then on that I've moved on from my foggy vice and just stick with alcoholism because I can't really see the wrongness in beers aside from the fact that they give you big bellies that stick out through the largest of shirts. And hello? Beers taste so fucking good, and you don't have to be an alcoholic to attest that.

It turns out that my presumptions were wrong and dear lord have mercy because it's all coming back agaiiin.

I have so many theories as to why my lungs are begging to be murdered yet again, as if my two-month long wet cough isn't enough to rip it off to pieces. Maybe it's because of my environment, obviously. I've been spending so much time in school nowadays because professors are scheduling makeup classes here and there, for the reason that finals week is fast approaching as we all know it. Maybe it's because of some of my blockmates and friends I've seen often times smoking in Agno or Castro. It's hard to ignore what they're clearly doing, probably because I've done it before and my body seems to be begging for another round of it again. Or maybe, just maybe maybe maybe, I'm soo fucking stressed out and nobody's really helping me to let it out somewhere safe.

And by safe, I'm pretty sure all of you won't really refer to cigs, unless you're a chain smoker.

So here's the catch: as much as I would want to buy a pack of cigs, I just cannot. Seriously CAN'T. Like I can't do such thing, or whatever. I don't think it's because of the lighter thing again (I'm afraid of fires, making me unable to even hold a freaking lighter), because I can always ask somebody to light a fire for me. I don't even think it's because of what people might think of me when I will start the uncool habit again, because ever since college started, I've been immune to inferiority...which is just impeccably weird because my blockmates have been teasing me about my body for the last three months and it seems that it's not making any bad effect on my psychological whatever. For the love of God, it's even doing GOOD. The teasing made me less sensitive and MORE apathetic, which is a good thing if you're an introvert.

Well, it's probably because..I'm getting more mature each day. I don't have an idea what/who is triggering those bullets from the maturity gun and pointing them straight at me, but surely enough, my mother can definietly bear witness to this. She's been blabbing about my maturity stints all week long, for Christ's sake. She's presenting superficial evidences like the fact that I've not been bringing my PSP to school for the past few weeks, and ditching sleep just to watch documentaries late at night. God, mothers can be so overly-sensitive sometimes. I'll not be surprised if she gets mad at me because my breath smells like menthol and not the usual shit one day. "Anak! You're brushing your teeth na? Kelan paa?? You're growing up na talagaa!! Soon you'll leave me and just send your yayas to look out for me! Kawawa naman ako." Right back at ya, mom.

Being mature for my case means resisting urges uttered by my heart. Sure, my heart is shouting out Marlboro like hell everytime I pass by somebody smoking like crazy in the streets, but I can't do anything about it. My mind wants me to quit being a high school kid because obviously, I'm not one anymore. It's all pretty much like mind over matter, but modified to fit my life, resulting to mind over heart. I'm not really weirded out by all of it. In fact, I'm grateful because my mind finally settled itself almost a year before I hit the legal age. People now don't have the right to call me immature, because I'm evidently not.

But that's in real life.

So in this other world I have, I can be immature as long as I want to.

Probably because there are no vices HERE.