And so I lit my cigarette


Staring on the blanks on my walls, wondering what would they be like if they were painted in another color, it was white by the way, just pale normal white. I sipped a deep breath, injecting toxic inside my body and the exhaling the same toxic back to the world. The world as it is had already have enough toxic, but I was merely excersizing my right to poison this world.


As the paper and tobacco turned to ash, I flicked my cigarette, removing the burnt part. When the ash was removed I noticed the amber of the cigarette, I was wondering where it went, it didn’t go anywhere, it was just hidden from my sight by the trail of residues it left behind.



The amber turned to bright glowing red fire as I inhaled the cigarette, and returned to its common orange color when I stopped. Ironic, oxygen, a substance I need to stay alive is now keeping the cigarette, which is slowly killing me, from dying.




My chest hurts for every smoke I breath, but my mind was at ease, another irony, I have to corrupt my body in order to keep my mental health, I had probably finished half a pack since this morning, but I wasn’t bothered by the fact. Addiction is not a sign of lack in self control; it is just an expression of self helplessness, how we are not able to manage some urges, regardless how much effort we’ve put trying to put it in submission.




I picked up another cigarette this time just placing it in my lips, not wanting to light it. I played with it for a few seconds, moving it left and right with a single movement of my tongue. Then I got bored, picked my lighter on put it on fire. And so the process repeats.


bye2