I puffed on another cigarette, sucked in the smoke as much as I could and let it out slowly. It was my 3rd that day. Sorry, 4th actually and that too barring the counter shots I had taken. I closed my eyes and let the mild dizziness sink in. That momentary light headedness felt heavenly. It makes you believe that even if for a couple of seconds you're in another world. A world painted with bright colors with a blissful surrounding, far away from the mundanity and sufferings of your daily life. You feel genuinely happy.
I opened my eyes after that slight vertigo left me and wondered when did I change so much? When did a drag of a cigarette just to experiment became a dire necessity? I remember the first day when I hesitated to draw in the first smoke. It seemed so long ago now. Why did I become like this? Was it life? Or was it my choice completely? I guess a bit of both.
What makes you smoke you ask? Well, not because it feels cool. (Okey initially it did feel cool, nit anymore though). Perhaps due to the things you can't change, things that are out of your control, out of your grasp. When you feel yourself slipping away, when you search frantically everywhere for a refuge but fail to get one. When you crave someone's presence, only to endure their absence. When you're on the verge of a breakdown but realise there is no shoulder to lean on. When you want to spill out everything bottled up inside your heart but find no one to open up to or no one worth opening up to who will understand you the way you can't even understand yourself. When you want an escape! A temporary escape nevertheless. That's when you smoke. That's when you give in.
Isn't it? Or do you too find it exaggerating?