Friday, June 17, 2011

Dear cigarettes,

Our lips first touched when I was thirteen. At first I was afraid of you; it’s funny because long before now, I couldn’t be without your heavy kiss for long. I remember once you made me feel so cool, so popular and so grown up, but now that I am grown, I wish you would have left me alone. I remember a time when I didn’t even know how to breath in your fumes properly, but when I did learn how to let your limbs spread all over my lungs; I spent troubled times just trying to unlearn the lesson. I wish dear cigarette that you would have taken pity on me and ignored this once virgin piece of territory. But no, you are so selfish and so possessive; you always wanted to be with me even when I wanted to rid myself of you.

I hated the way you made me reek, when I went into class or when I left the club. I hate the way you had to get so physical and just help yourself to every part of my: clothing, hair, fingers etc... To put it plainly I just hated the way you got into my atmosphere.

There are times though, when I think of you as beautiful sometimes because my judgment is impaired and I cannot help myself, I simply just... I simply must... consume you.

By the way, I hate the way you are so controlling.

I know I paint a very ugly picture of you, but you are not all ugly. There were times when you intrigued me, like when I saw your fumes escape the lungs of another to form a cloud so sweetly and completely. There were times when I just want to feast on only you alone, I wanted to ravage you, I could not look elsewhere except for where you sat, amongst others like you and so I would pay (once again) for your company. The cashier and I would take turns in waiting. He would wait for his money and I would have to decide whether to wait for my petty change or until I got you home and ripped off your shiny costume. It’s insane for me to have been that involved with you, I’m just a student. Do you even know how much I spent on you? It’s really just freakin’ absurd when I look at the numbers.

Its weird how sometimes you were a friend to me, I didn’t mind when we just chilled and watched the sunset and you calmed me down and I would get a chance to think, I didn’t mind when we watched the stars together at night, in the silence. I liked the way you were quiet (I just thought I should tell you, yea... I really like that about you). You never talked over me when I was trying to make conversation, thanks for that. I thought you made me seem so sophisticated and mysterious the way you created an automatic smoke screen for my close up. I liked the way that sometimes it was only by being with you that I actually got my quiet moments to ponder. I think its cool how I also go t to meet really interesting people through you; it’s a shame though... I wish we would have met differently.

Differently, is the very word I wish I felt about you, because where I’m at now; it is still a struggle to keep myself away from you.

The thing is you often trick me into thinking I need you, but I actually don’t. I DON’T NEED YOU. I usually crave you when I am upset, I make myself believe that you will help solve my problem, but you don’t. I want to see your pretty white gown, dipped in brown when I am hungry so you will distract me, but you don’t. I want to feel your symmetrical figure in between my lips when I am nervous, hoping that you will calm me down, but you don’t. I look to you when I am bored too, but you are always the same, you never surprise me. I think I need you but I don’t. I always disappoint myself by being with you.

Cigarette, you should have left me alone, you should have told me you would make me sick, and you have caused me so much hardship. You kept your mouth shut when it was time to let me know that I was just as cool and just as interesting without you...

Even though you gave me a temporary high in every way and touched me in ways I should never have known, even though you drew to me people who are now very dear to me, I envy those who have never received your kiss.

I really do.

Yours truly, Charlotte Makala.

P.S-For your next victim I hope you fail, I hope you let slip how they DO NOT need you and how all who rely on you are in some form losers, the only thing us smokers share is the void, loneliness and emptiness that you, cigarette, keep promising that you will fill for us. But you never will. I know you I’ve been with you now (on and off) for seven years. All you do is ensconce a nasty habit in me and waste my money. (For those of you who are unaware how much cigarettes cost you in a year, try do the math you might be astonished.)You can never change your ways because you are simply and only just a cigarette, and in time I will accept that and forgive the both of us. But I can change, so I will try.