Smoking Pt. 1
This guy named Julio helped make me a smoker. I call him "this guy," because while at one point he may have been considered a friend, he isn't so much of a friend anymore. Our falling out, if you could even call it that, didn't actually have anything to do with my newfound crux, so, the details aren't important. I find myself feeling sad that I haven't seen him, but I'm sad in this numb, unyielding kind of way.
It is what it is.
We were at this night club, and I had a crush on him. He asked me, no, told me to come outside to smoke a black and mild. I had said no on previous ocassions, but this time I couldn't think of an excuse not to. So, we went, and he got the thing started.
Black and milds are neither black, nor mild. They're brown, actually, with a white or cream color mouthpiece on one end. They're longer and fatter than regular cigarettes, and one might even call them mini-cigars. Perhaps that's exactly what they are, except that you are supposed to inhale these, and I've heard that you're not supposed to inhale cigars. To that, I usually wonder to myself what the point of smoking a cigar might be, but I've never gotten into an intellectual discussion about inhalation, or lack there of, of cigar smoke.
I took a few puffs and inhaled. It wasn't so bad. It wasn't that great either, but soon, I felt light headed, and I liked it.
So, black and milds were my thing. They were Julio's thing, too. We had a few things in common, and that was one of them, which, not surprisingly, made me like them even more. They were our thing. Ours.
As Julio got tired of me, I got tired of black and milds. I liked cloves after that. They had this disgustingly sweet taste to them, and they looked like brown cigarettes. They were exotic, and made me feel unique and desired. Try as he might, Julio eventually switched to cloves, too. He had wanted to quit smoking, but I hooked him on a new feeling, that feeling of being unique and desired. He was unique and desired.
I switched to cigarettes by myself. Cloves had become too sweet, and Julio had disappeared. I felt like throwing up whenever I put one anywhere near my mouth. I thought for a second I might quit altogether, but then I found Camel Menthol No. 9s. All the advertisements said they were light and luscious, and I couldn't really disagree. Although, I'd never use either of those words to truly describe what any cigarette tastes like.
A little slice of heaven; A little slice of your lungs.
That might be a more accurate description.
Marlboro Menthol Lights moved into my life, and then Marlboro Smooths came next. Nowadays, switching it up has become the norm, because it keeps me from growing too tired of any one kind.
I still find myself fascinated with cigarettes and smoking them, and yet, at the same time, I'm beginning to feel bored with them all as well. Because of that, I've decided that cigarettes are THE great dichotomy of life.
Swirling cigarette smoke dances beautifully in the evening twilight, but the charred remains of a smoker's lungs probably wouldn't ever make a very pretty art piece. Cigarettes calm you down, but go without one for too long and the anxiety sets in. The more you smoke the better you feel; the more you smoke the worse you feel.
I keep thinking about quitting, but I don't. I keep thinking about doing something else, but I don't.
signed = faultytext
It is what it is.
We were at this night club, and I had a crush on him. He asked me, no, told me to come outside to smoke a black and mild. I had said no on previous ocassions, but this time I couldn't think of an excuse not to. So, we went, and he got the thing started.
Black and milds are neither black, nor mild. They're brown, actually, with a white or cream color mouthpiece on one end. They're longer and fatter than regular cigarettes, and one might even call them mini-cigars. Perhaps that's exactly what they are, except that you are supposed to inhale these, and I've heard that you're not supposed to inhale cigars. To that, I usually wonder to myself what the point of smoking a cigar might be, but I've never gotten into an intellectual discussion about inhalation, or lack there of, of cigar smoke.
I took a few puffs and inhaled. It wasn't so bad. It wasn't that great either, but soon, I felt light headed, and I liked it.
So, black and milds were my thing. They were Julio's thing, too. We had a few things in common, and that was one of them, which, not surprisingly, made me like them even more. They were our thing. Ours.
As Julio got tired of me, I got tired of black and milds. I liked cloves after that. They had this disgustingly sweet taste to them, and they looked like brown cigarettes. They were exotic, and made me feel unique and desired. Try as he might, Julio eventually switched to cloves, too. He had wanted to quit smoking, but I hooked him on a new feeling, that feeling of being unique and desired. He was unique and desired.
I switched to cigarettes by myself. Cloves had become too sweet, and Julio had disappeared. I felt like throwing up whenever I put one anywhere near my mouth. I thought for a second I might quit altogether, but then I found Camel Menthol No. 9s. All the advertisements said they were light and luscious, and I couldn't really disagree. Although, I'd never use either of those words to truly describe what any cigarette tastes like.
A little slice of heaven; A little slice of your lungs.
That might be a more accurate description.
Marlboro Menthol Lights moved into my life, and then Marlboro Smooths came next. Nowadays, switching it up has become the norm, because it keeps me from growing too tired of any one kind.
I still find myself fascinated with cigarettes and smoking them, and yet, at the same time, I'm beginning to feel bored with them all as well. Because of that, I've decided that cigarettes are THE great dichotomy of life.
Swirling cigarette smoke dances beautifully in the evening twilight, but the charred remains of a smoker's lungs probably wouldn't ever make a very pretty art piece. Cigarettes calm you down, but go without one for too long and the anxiety sets in. The more you smoke the better you feel; the more you smoke the worse you feel.
I keep thinking about quitting, but I don't. I keep thinking about doing something else, but I don't.
signed = faultytext