It is terribly disgusting of me, and I can probably help it. But. I don't want to. Help it, that is. The sweet scent is to powerful. I cannot help but think of simpler times when my father's embraces held the fragrant burnt nicotine scent. I know my argument is not much of one. But cancer, the expenses, your life, secondhand smoke-all for what?
If mahjong tiles plinking together is the original soundtrack of my childhood, then cigarette smoke is smell of my childhood. Overpowering and inescapable, not matter how long you hold your breath, where you turn your head, or if you breathe through your mouth. I was taught in school, like everyone else, smoking is a death wish. And I went through a phrase of trashing all of my father's cigarettes (see: Ramona Quimby). But now, I envy that child. I wish that snapping little nicotine sticks were the biggest of my concerns.
I don't expect anyone to agree or understand, but for my own good - I would like to agree with myself. One is enough relax me and remind me of memories of being tucked in at night, walking to school, cicadas lulling me to sleep. And I am greedy enough to pay the price for that calmness. I am willing to undertake the risks to my life for a moment of peace and ease. What is the point of living painfully, when I could take small sips of memories and not overwhelm myself?
What a spectacular way to surviving the new year. Good luck to you too.
If mahjong tiles plinking together is the original soundtrack of my childhood, then cigarette smoke is smell of my childhood. Overpowering and inescapable, not matter how long you hold your breath, where you turn your head, or if you breathe through your mouth. I was taught in school, like everyone else, smoking is a death wish. And I went through a phrase of trashing all of my father's cigarettes (see: Ramona Quimby). But now, I envy that child. I wish that snapping little nicotine sticks were the biggest of my concerns.
I don't expect anyone to agree or understand, but for my own good - I would like to agree with myself. One is enough relax me and remind me of memories of being tucked in at night, walking to school, cicadas lulling me to sleep. And I am greedy enough to pay the price for that calmness. I am willing to undertake the risks to my life for a moment of peace and ease. What is the point of living painfully, when I could take small sips of memories and not overwhelm myself?
What a spectacular way to surviving the new year. Good luck to you too.
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