I’m not. Just to get that out of the way. I would love to not stick these paper fucks in my face every hour of every day, but I’m not. The future is open, but the future is the future.
I think I just like seeing the smoke come out of my face. It’s like Christopher Lee in Conan the Destroyer when he is fighting it out with Mako and he blows smoke out of his nose. You know he just took a puff and they got the shot. That’s as simple as it gets, but it looks like he is in the middle of a spellfight epic style and that is the radness.
That, of course, isn’t why I keep doing it. I keep doing it, because I fucking go nuts if I don’t. I was able to not do it when I was dating that girl I dated last, but the moment she left I lit up. I just had to. It is called addiction, fags. It sucks, but it is some real shit. Luckily I am not like that about alcohol. Btw, ought I have put a comma after luckily in the last sentence? I can’t remember if, after an adverb in the beginning of a sentence, one puts a comma.
Anyways, it is a weird form of control when you don’t feel you have any. It is a simple object, but one you have total control over. You put it in your mouth, you light it, and then it burns down to nothing and you put it out.
Control.
Funny that I say it is a form of control when I obviously have no control over my need to keep iterating a useless function. I’ve done other drugs. We’ll use alcohol as an example, because it is legal and this is a public forum. You drink and you get fucked up. The more you drink, the more you get fucked up. The more you do most drugs, the more you get fucked up. Cigarettes only fuck up your health and, after a while, make you feel normal. What a bunch of fucking gypsy bullshit. And I have wasted so much money on it. Just to feel normal. Fuck.
Indians used to use it to send up prayers. They thought they would send their messages to their heathen god via the smoke. I use that sometimes. I have sent prayers up with my smoke. Some may have worked. Some may not have. If I understood god’s ways, then I would be in a different spot than I am now.
So, anyways, I’m not quitting. I am just writing about it. And smoking.
Fuck.
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