I never saw smoking as an activity I would do, not for leisure, not for stress relief. It was something I was far from doing. My mom was never fond of smoking, so I in turn was never attracted to it. I mildly disliked it.

That was what I thought until you came. Smoking had never been so tempting until I met you. It began when I started getting burdened with travails. They got so heavy that I started to think smoking would be an ideal solution. It always occurred in times of sorrow or anger, but then I never really did it. When we spent more time together, I knew I would be exposed to second-hand smoke and for a moment I was worried. You always used to blow the smoke away from me, but as we were together more often due to activities, you eventually got tired. At first, I covered my nose with a hanky, but then lately I’ve just let it be: To hell with lung cancer. It didn’t help either when you took me with you when you smoked. Your reason was there was no one else to accompany you.

You always smoked when you got stressed or when you just felt like doing it. There was one instance that I thought of smoking so I could get closer to you. It was stupid, but it was simply a momentary thought. I never really entertained it. Come to think of it though, I remember a newspaper article I read a long time ago. The article said the author was grateful for the fact that both he and the person he liked both smoked. Due to this, they were able to have long conversations and talk about things they wouldn’t discuss with anyone else. I wish we could be like that without me engaging in this unhealthy activity. I’ve thought of smoking, but deep inside I knew that I would never do. I’m too health-conscious to do so. I’ve got to applaud you though. You must have given me a hard hit for me to even consider smoking fully knowing it would destroy my cirri possibly compromising my immune functions.

I can’t believe what you’ve turned me into. I no longer care for my health. I allow you to pull me outside just for your regular smoke. It’s funny how I allow you, fully knowing that there’s no chance for you and I. It’s funny how much of an imbecile I am. That no matter how many people go through you, I’ll never have a change. Hilarious how you jump from person to person and I’m left wondering why and how this began. You were never in a relationship before and once you got into one, you just jumped from one person to the other. It frustrates me, knowing that I’ll never have the guts to tell you because I’m too afraid to: afraid of rejection, afraid of the unknown and afraid I won’t be able to make you happy. You just seem so restless: you with your colored hair and adventurous wardrobe. I respect you immensely and I know you trust me deeply. For now, we’ll remain there and we won’t make any move. I’m too frightened of losing your trust in me and you’re too fragile to be in my arms. As the cigarette dies and you place your shoe on it in an awkward manner, my mind reverts to the present and I ask a cigarette from you. You swat your hand away and give me your devious smirk. With that, my thoughts about smoking end. And that’s what smoking will ever be, just simply a thought, like you and me.