Kurt Vonnegut described smoking [pall Malls] as a classy way of committing suicide.
Most people forget why they started smoking in the first place or why they continue to do so because if you ask them, they'll almost definitely say that they don't feel the kick anymore.
Maybe it's Physiological, maybe its Psychological, maybe it's neither, but they do feel good to smoke.
As for me, I feel that the reason I smoke is definitely psychological in nature.
Here I describe how I feel when I smoke, feel free to close the window if you don't feel like reading this.
I had just found out that my one little dream had been shot down
shot down even before it had a chance to lift off of the ground.
Squashed like a wingless insect.
My sister; is in the living room
she's watching some crap on the television.
I have to smoke a cigarette, that would calm me down,
help me overcome another devastating setback.
I lock my room, get into the loo.
I feel safe away from people.
There is no draft no breeze,
the surroundings silent from the lack of any kind of motion.
It was serene and calm.
I moved slowly to avoid disturbing the tranquility of the air.
I see myself in the mirror. How did it get this way ?
The problem is before me, smack on my nose, as is often said.
I light the match, its more romantic than using a lighter
The lighter with its garish plastic
and aluminum foil parts and its dead flame.
The flame dances, inviting me to its deadly warmth.
A devil it may be, but not one in disguise.
I light the smoke, and take a drag while I watch myself in the mirror.
The lit end; a beacon of the very life that is in me.
I watch as I slowly kill myself, the classy way!
Does this count as suicide ?
I see the plume of smoke disappear into my face.
Its full of poison, and it only harms me,
but at least it is honest.
It has no human faults
but has a life of its own.
I savor the feeling of self-destruction,
while I think of opportunities past.
I stare into the mirror but look into the distance.
I exhale, slowly, I want to watch the smoke leave me forever.
The smoke is my friend.
It exits, and swirls around, I wish I were high right now.
It dances and it mocks me,
it dances like a victorious warrior.
It trips and it overturns, fighting with itself,
Could the most beautiful flower in the world
beat its natural elegance ?
I would think not.
I have no regrets,
I take in another drag.
Its time is up, I extinguish it.
I will however never forget it.
It may be a one-night stand
I may be in an abusive 'relationship'
but at least it is not fickle.
I can have one when I want to.
And in the long run that is all that matters.