Currently listening to: To Be With You – Mr. Big
I’m the one who wants to be with you
Deep inside I hope you feel it too
Waited on a line of greens and blues
Just to be the next to be with you
I used to smoke Djarums during my freshman year at uni. There was something about the smell of cloves that captivated me—it was warm, earthy, and just felt so different from anything else. It became almost like a signature scent to me, a little indulgence that felt rebellious and free. But as much as I loved the aroma, every time I smoked one, I couldn’t ignore the harsh reality—it made my lungs burn, like they were on fire. It felt like I was slowly suffocating from the inside, and eventually, I had to stop. It wasn’t worth the damage, even though the allure still lingered.
Now, years later, every so often, someone will walk past me with a Djarum in hand, and that familiar scent hits me like a wave. In those brief moments, I find myself breathing in deeply, almost unconsciously, remembering that feeling of freedom and careless indulgence. And for just a second, I’ll feel the pull, the urge for just one little puff, as if I could recapture something lost. It’s strange how scents can transport you, make you feel like you’re back in a different time, even if you know it’s not the healthiest choice. It’s like a piece of your past still calls out to you, even when you’ve let go of it.
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