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My cigarette, my friend

Tags: smoke

Don’t get me wrong. I know you're not good for my health, but you’ve helped me through a number of hard and good times and with that, nobody could disagree, not even those who screamed with joy when a smoking ban in all public places was decided recently by many European countries.

There were times when I didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with my hands, as I was utterly embarrassed.

Times when I was so bored I would have fallen asleep if I didn’t have a smoke.

Times when I just wanted to sit by my self in the dark, a while before dawn, with a glass of wine, contemplating the perfect night that I had just lived.

Days when I met a friend in the street, who I hadn’t seen for a long time and sat with them in a small French bistro to have a hot coffee and chat happily.

Nights when I was so sad that I kept forgetting to breathe and you reminded me to draw some air in together with your smoke.

Moments when I could nowhere find some honesty except for your pack: “Smoking can kill”.

Occasions where all the literature on bad smell related to you proved to be sooo wrong, e.g. kissing him after he’d had a cigarette and enjoying that spicy, bitter taste of fresh smoke in his mouth.

I have to say I can live without you in restaurants, bars and cafes. I really can. Besides, we can have our private moments at home, or at some good friends’ living rooms. But I don’t think I'm going to quit. After all, I’m not a racist, a homophobic, a pedophile, I don’t take advantage of other people, I don’t abuse animals, I don’t pollute the environment, I don’t cheat on my boyfriend, I’ve never supported a conservative party… I just smoke.

This post first appeared on The Ladies Way, please read the originial post: here

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My cigarette, my friend


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