Holding a cigarette in winter is a difficult and daunting task. Ice-cold temperatures and paralyzing winds are not my best friends, but cigarettes are. I believe in smoking, and not just one cigarette, but many.
Cigarettes became my best friends before I ever began smoking. As a young child, I would often delicately hold my plastic straws from my Strawberry milk cartons in between my two fingers as I mimicked the art of graceful smoking. It wasn’t until college though that I ventured from plastic straws to the real deal. I was driving down the highway when I pulled over into a questionable looking gas station parking lot to purchase my first pack of cigarettes. My urge came not from peer pressure or the media, but from my own desire to smoke. I entered the gas station and asked the clerk for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Feeling accomplished, I walked back to my car and lit my very first cigarette. I didn’t cough or feel sick when I first inhaled. It was like I had been smoking all my life. The cigarette fit perfectly in between my two fingers, and fit even more perfectly in between my two lips. I began that very day and have continued ever since.
I’ve often been asked why I smoke. Initially, I was always annoyed with the question, and wanted to answer back, “Because I want too!” as I rolled my eyes. But, now, I smile back and say nothing. For the smile says it all. Inhaling a cigarette is one of the most pleasurable things in life. In just fifteen seconds or less, the nicotine enters my system, and all my worries and anxieties seem to release through the pores of my skin. Bliss. Pure and utter bliss.
As a smoker, I plan my daily schedule around my cigarette breaks. I smoke before I eat. I smoke after I eat. I smoke before I go to class. I smoke after I go to class. Basically, I smoke before or after I do anything in my life because this is the way I live.
Cigarettes also keep me out of jail. Without the aid of cigarettes, I would need my friends to pay my bail for me every other day. How could I not love something that keeps me out of jail?
For just under four dollars every few days, cigarettes are not expensive best friends. Because besides offering me enjoyment, they also offer me what I like to call psychological-assistance-with-a-filter. It doesn’t matter what happens in my life, the solution is always to go smoke a cigarette. The world could be rapidly be entering a new ice age around me, and I would still need fifteen minutes to smoke a cigarette because I believe in smoking. I am a smoker, and I will always be a smoker. This is what I believe.
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