It was interesting, seeing the smoke just waft from a stranger’s exhale, twisting among itself until finally dissipating.
They know it’s going to kill them sooner or later, so why do they still continue? It’s not an addiction, at least for some – that bitter aftertaste of tar riding at the back of your tongue, like nicotine-infused cavalry attempting to charge uphill.
Sometimes, it’s like your unrequited feelings. You foresee the fights – disagreements, disapprovals, the inconveniences – yet you return to this whirlwind of emotions because you cannot imagine life without this person. You know you’ll get hurt, but you keep running back for that temporary sense of euphoria, only to tumble back into the consequences of your own being.
It’s not that toxic infusion, or that moment it gets lit, or the dancing smoke, it probably never was. Perhaps it was finally something you found comfortable, a few minutes of repetitive motions like the hands of a clock, tick-tocking without a care of anything as the world continues to spin on its axis.
I could actually go for one right now.
* END *