I exhaled as the disgustingly satisfying smoke passed my lips. I relieve myself in the horrible pass-time, but no matter how many cigarettes i smoked, i was certain i'd never come to enjoy the taste. In my opinion (and surely shared by many others) it was a disgusting practice, but that didn't matter, i was a smoker now.
I stood outside, under the canopy of a small store. The ground damp from an earlier shower, and my breath a fog, not just from smoke, but cold.
Fiddling with the light white burning stick in my hand, i felt awkward. It was still new to me, the practice of in taking a known carcinogen. And despite its wide common practice, the activity is greatly looked down upon. I was even ironically scrutinized by my already smoking friends for taking up the past time. Not that I didn't agree
... why did i start?
I wonder what she'd think if she knew i had started smoking. I imagine the twisted expression she might wear, and feel a heart full of guilt. Inhaling the horrible fumes of smoke, the flavor retched..
i reminisce the warm faded memories past. Crackled and gray like an old film, i replay the treasured memories without wear in my head.
Smoke clouds past my lips and drifts charismatically towards the heavens. The sky is hazy, and far off, with only a few nightly stars making their appearance.
I run through one cigarette and then light the next, filling my lungs once again with their poison.
What little do i have to live for anymore.. ?
Slowly poisoning myself.
Funtionablility. Each day i play court jester to my own reality. Pitting myself as a fool, so i can easily live in the world of others. My smiles are believable, my laughs almost true, my interests are insightful, my future visions have bottomless depth. Yes, i play it well, for others, for me, an almost flawless facade. But my heart and mind grow weary and i fall down in my lonely shadows, cursing myself and the part i play, and others for being just the same.
The embering cigarette crackles as i shake my dark thoughts. Groggily sinking with each exhale, the weight of this pathetic drug beats my struggling mind into submission. I pull in deeper with every drag, unsatisfied that my stress has yet to diminish. I've never been so spiteful, but a lonely heart is filled with bitter sorrow and malice. And mine is forever darkening in seclusion, as memories draw deeper into the past.
When my heart clenches and my breath quickens.. i can feel my physical downward fall, as my new little addiction has gracefully taken it's toll. I'll indulge once more, as my soul cries out, and take deep breath of the smoke that makes my body fall more. I fall, i reflect, all the memories i wish i didn't want to forget.
This is the only thing i can do without killing myself. I chuckle at my own humorous assurances, but deep down i know it's true. This is the only way i can kill myself without dying... right away. Slowly, but surely, i'll die just as much as i have already inside.
I could imagine her face twist...
and I feel a heart full of guilt. I finished off my cigarette.
It was too late now, I was already killing myself.
(11/13/08 11:43 PM)
