Filthy habit found me one dark morning … I took a puff and that was enough to consume me.
We’re back to bad, I told myself. I’m killing me with these and I gladly consume one stick after another. I have no death wish, but one thing’s for sure, I’m bothered by something I am not aware of. I usually pick up smoking when something is troubling me, only this time I don’t know what it is. Until then, I’m going to slowly kill myself with these (not consciously, let’s just say I’m fully aware of its effects). It sort of lets me down easy in case the lingering doom is too enormous for me to digest. I at least will have fear of cancer to bother me away while I mull over the imminent problem. Beleive me, I’m not trying to be funny.
Hopefully, I snap out soon enough so I can move on without feeling the need to pick up a routine in turning my lungs to tar. Plus, my fainting spell a week back means that I’m in dire need of a better and healthier choices – crap, does that mean I have to throw the bottle of wine I bought to wash down my meds?
My head feels weird. Hmmm, why is the room tilting? Ah yeah, I finished six sticks in a row. Until I finally black out again …