smoking

Cigarettes & Coffee.

I miss smoking and I know I shouldn’t.

Before I get a million lectures on the subject, let me say it out in the open, I miss it. I miss the ritual of it. The lighting, the inhaling and the slow exhaling. I miss the solidarity of the moment. How you could be surrounded by hundreds of people, but when you needed an escape the cigarette was your alibi. It relaxed you and calmed the shakes that trembled from your chest to your fingertips. The moment you tapped your first pack and took off its wrapper, it opened something inside of you. The smells of tobacco and the memories a smell holds with it. This familiarity that something so bad could make the worries of the moments disappear.

Inhale, exhale.

I disappeared in every smokey haze. Hiding from the world without a moments notice. The countless conversations I reasoned with myself with every puff I gave. Its something I never got with breathing. A sensation that never felt obtainable with just the air in my lungs. I loved it, then hated it. I denied it, then craved it. Something to take the edge of life, off of my hands. I could disappear in this cloudy, smokey, haze. Disappear into the smoke, where no one would find me. Have a moment with myself that I could never get with the open air and clear views.

I miss cigarettes like I miss conversations. Because all the meaningful conversations happen outside at night around 1 am, with the street lights illuminating your smoke. Your mouth slowly forming words and phrases. I miss that. This smell that stuck to every inch of your skin and lingered over all your overcoats. Breathing in the cold air and flowing inside every inch of your lungs. I felt it like a breaking heart, like a sad song with an upsetting melody. My body craves it on the dark days when I have nothing left to say. But it’s bad. It’s all bad for me. The ash, the smoke and the light that burns until I have nothing left.

I feel stuck. Finding something to take away the craving. Locating the thing I can sit with to find a single word of conversation. I could stare into the bottom of every cup of coffee. I could sit and stare for hours at the water that dyes every inside of every cup. I feel nothing, I crave something more. After ever last drop of coffee, nothing gives you satisfaction as that last drag of a cigarette.

God, I miss it. I miss it.

1/3/2015

Pursuit of Happiness.

Crush a bit, little bit, roll it up, take a hit.

I am watching everything in my life slip away. Through the clouds of the smoke that we so delicately breathe out of ourselves. We are wasting away the nights drinking away our sorrows, when all we want to do is sit silently in deep thoughts and conversations. I have nothing to hide from these monsters I see before me. I have nothing to hide from the people that are surrounding me. All I ever wanted was a reason to escape these nightmares that keep me up at night. Instead I watch myself disappear into the clouds and float away from everything around me.

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Everything and everyone is alive in slow motion. Turning into blurry masses, while I constantly observe this happening. I am not afraid. I sit and observe in hope that in time I too will turn into a blurry mass of nothing. Disappear into the misty fog clouds that I see before me. Become nothing but a huge cloud of smoke and then nothing. I could die at this moment and still feel more alive then I did in my waking life. Feel something more than I have ever felt. Maybe death isn’t such a bad thing, all I know is that at this moment living is just a hard as dying.

Do you think you ever get to that point where everything feels okay? Where everything finally comes alive and you don’t feel this way? Will I ever feel like I am living?

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I just want an excuse to disappear. Become another blurry mass in the crowd of slow motion living. Instead I sit and watch the mockery everyone makes of themselves. I watch everyone move slowly as an exaggerated version of themselves. This isn’t what I want. This isn’t what I imagined my life to be. I can’t help but feel trapped around the same things and the same people. Every last one of us wanted a reason to disappear. Drinking and smoking away every last bit of our selves to feel something. Anything. I just want an excuse to stay awake because its the nightmares that keep me up at night. Its the thoughts of loneliness and sadness that can’t stop once they’re settled under my skin. Hurting myself can only go so far and once I exhausted all my resources, how much more of the destruction do I have left.

I am too deep into my self destruction to get myself out of this mess. I just wish for this all to be over. The tears, the numbing, the nightmares, everything. Maybe not today, but soon. Until then I’ll sit here disappearing into the clouds and wishing for something else. Anything else. This road to happiness and my many ways of pursuing greatness.  Maybe someday.

I’ll be fine once I get it, I’ll be good. 

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7/1/2009