Monday, December 6, 2010


I started smoking almost 3 years ago.

It was the only way for a long time that I could find reprieve from the world that was around me; an escape from a life a deemed terrible with no brightness in the future ahead. Both of my dad's parents died from smoking-induced cancer. And yet it didn't matter.

It was and still is one of the most popular things I turn to when I'm feeling alone, scared, or just upset. There's something about sitting there and being able to think that is relaxing. And I still don't even care that it could kill me one day. It is a dependence that I don't think will ever fully disappear.

Luckily, it's not the cigarettes that have me, though I have been tempted. But cigarillos and a pipe have been the one way that I can escape from the worst things in my life. Sure, I can write a song about it or plug in the headphones. But there is always the smoke for when the worst things happen.

Everytime I think I might give it up for good there is a relapse. And in all honesty I don't think I'm really trying that hard for it to end. For me one of my ways of coping is to grab a pack and just go for a long drive or a long cold walk. Something where I'm completely by myself, and just breathe away my life. On the other hand, there is something about having yourself completely cut off from the world that is appealing.

There have been times when I am upset that I have driven to one of my favorite towns nearby home, Red Bank, and just walked. My music is calming yet loud enough to block out the excess noise. And I just sit somewhere staring out over the river and smoke away. As I walk through the town I study the faces of everyone. And everyone has a different story. You can see the pain in some people in the laughter in others. Some people's eyes twinkle when they smile and in others you can see their indifference in the world they live in; a slave to the corporate world that they are forced to endure to get by in their life. The innocence of the children as they play along the water at Riverside Park. And the careful caution of their parents to keep them from getting in trouble.

If there was ever something that could calm me down the most... smoking would be up there. And I know it's not an attractive quality to many. So instead maybe I'll just accept that isolation that comes from it, and let it be.

I'm not saying I smoke a pack or day or anything like that. But I would be lying if I said it wasn't one of the first things I turn to. I'll be happy one day and the minute the bomb hits I'm back on the park bench with my drug.

I'm a strong advocate of being who you want to be, and ignoring the opinions of others. I do my best to do me, and not let anyone else get in the way. This might be one of those opportunities where it'd be best to accept some help. Yet something tells me that no matter what, it will never end. And I think I'm okay with that. Maybe it will lessen, but there will always be something to break me. I suppose there could be worse habits out there.

Maybe this surprises you, to be reading this. Maybe you had no idea. But it was something I was thinking about today. That special time for me to sit down and think comes through the smoke and I don't mind sitting down for hours if it means I'll have some time to think. Consider it one of my faults if you will, but it has gotten me through some tough times in my life, even if that's not the best way to go about it.

I'm not really sure how to wrap this one up. All I can say is that when the shit hits the fan, and emotion gets too strong to take; whether I'm hurting or just lonely, don't be surprised if you see me sitting alone somewhere. Just watching.

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