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Ramblings Over a Cancer-stick
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inner workings It's early yet...for a Sunday. Nobody's out really. I thought that more would be out grabbing a morning jog...a morning smoke. Nobody is sitting outside on the picnic table...nobody to grab a cigarette with. It's okay. I want to be alone anyway. I pull out my Virginia Slims and take one out. I run it under my nose. It smells disgusting, like a rotten hole that one should never fall into. Long and white with two gold rings on the filter. It looks almost innocent. I place it between my left index and middle fingers. It feels at home there. I rub my thumb over the filter's end, then place it between my lips. I take out my lighter and flick it on. I bring the flame to the end of the cigarette and inhale slightly. I replace my lighter in my pocketand exhale the smoke. I begin to walk around campus, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. I become lost in thought. I only smoke when I am troubled and without alcohol..which I am here. I hate smoking, the after-taste, and the smell that lingers on me long after. It's like it stays on me just to remind me of what i did. I feel guilty and take the long way around to avoid my boyfriend's windows. He neither supports nor discourages my habit. If he knew I only smoke when disturbed however, he may worry about me smoking now. I glance down at the white stick, now raped by gray ash. We were all pure once, but one good flame and we all begin to carry ashes. I should leave him because he will never love me, or at least will never claim to. This nearly stated by his own lips while holding a less pure cigarette in his hand. I know I shall fall for him, it shall be so easy, but he shall hurt me in the end. So I should leave him. But yet i find it hard with unfounded hopes that maybe he will fall for me...someday. But this is an old pattern. I must have rocks in my head. And here I am smoking over this problem. I hate smoking. I think I need some help.
