I exhaled a cloud of smoke as I gazed up at the stars above me. Smoking underneath the stars was the shit. It made me feel all calm and serene, if that made any sense. I took another puff as I thought about my life and the people around me. Then there were those bills. Those damn bills that came like clockwork every month to haunt me.
I thought about the first day I started work at my firm. A couple of months went by and I started picking up the habit of smoking. What can I say? The stick calmed my nerves. But then it started feeling really good doing it in the cold, when I was bored or when I couldn't sleep.
One day, I finally realized that smoking had probably become my addiction.
I suddenly became very aware of a rapid, shallow breathing behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find this dude who has been following me around since the first day I met him at that dodgy karaoke joint. He was always hovering...
I frowned and threw my cigarette on the ground. Twisting and grinding my foot on it, I asked him, "Ever had an addiction you wanted to shake off?"
With puppy dog eyes, he stared at me. "Yes, but I don't ever wanna shake it off."
I looked at him thoughtfully. It almost seemed as though he was staring at me in admiration. His eyes were a little wild and looked a bit crazed. He didn't break his gaze and the situation slowly turned awkward, even creepy. Could it be... NO.
Holy shit. I was his addiction.
- I'm not addicted to cigarettes, I'm addicted to escaping reality
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