A little meme
Ha.
Did I ever tell you? No.
A little MEME.
I don't smoke.
But I'm not being honest:
When I was about 15 years old, my father was still smoking. Yet, he didn't want me to smoke. So, best thing he could do in my opinion: On one occasion when I asked him, he offered me a cigarette. I wanted to know what it tasted like, tried, and was really disgusted. How could I like to have a taste in my mouth like the smell of a cold ash-tray? No, thank you.
Lately, I tried again. For forwardness. Because I'm such a good girl otherwise. Not addicted to any other vice. I was in such an unhappy and rebellious mood that I had to do something unreasonable. Like, smoking.
So, I bought myself a pack of cigarettes.
Tried one. Observed myself.
Do I like it? Not really.
How does it taste? Well, I was coughing. A scratchy feeling in my throat. A kind of soapy taste about it. I got dizzy (I liked that part somehow, and the soapy taste - don't know why. A friend said it was due to the alkaloid.).
And somehow, on that first occasion, it was good. *)
I carried around the cigarettes in my hand-bag (and I still do, don't ask me how the package looks like), but it took months before I smoked again.
That time, I was really depressed. I thought it would do me good, but it even made me more miserable. By the time I stubbed out the cigarette, I was crying hard.
Why do I tell this? Actually, I don't know. Maybe just had to get rid of this.
I don't consider myself a smoker. I still strongly dislike the tang of smoke on my fingers, and I know that smoking won't solve any of my problems.
Defiance.
Ha!
I'm such a child...
*) I guess it was especially because I did something really really unreasonable. And I took the time for myself. Just me and the cigarette. I sat under a starlit sky and smoked. Gee, I guess I might have had the same feeling without the coffin nail, but... no! I had to.
Maybe that one is about acceptance, too.
Accept that I'm not as reasonable as I consider myself to be ;-)
Did I ever tell you? No.
A little MEME.
I don't smoke.
But I'm not being honest:
When I was about 15 years old, my father was still smoking. Yet, he didn't want me to smoke. So, best thing he could do in my opinion: On one occasion when I asked him, he offered me a cigarette. I wanted to know what it tasted like, tried, and was really disgusted. How could I like to have a taste in my mouth like the smell of a cold ash-tray? No, thank you.
Lately, I tried again. For forwardness. Because I'm such a good girl otherwise. Not addicted to any other vice. I was in such an unhappy and rebellious mood that I had to do something unreasonable. Like, smoking.
So, I bought myself a pack of cigarettes.
Tried one. Observed myself.
Do I like it? Not really.
How does it taste? Well, I was coughing. A scratchy feeling in my throat. A kind of soapy taste about it. I got dizzy (I liked that part somehow, and the soapy taste - don't know why. A friend said it was due to the alkaloid.).
And somehow, on that first occasion, it was good. *)
I carried around the cigarettes in my hand-bag (and I still do, don't ask me how the package looks like), but it took months before I smoked again.
That time, I was really depressed. I thought it would do me good, but it even made me more miserable. By the time I stubbed out the cigarette, I was crying hard.
Why do I tell this? Actually, I don't know. Maybe just had to get rid of this.
I don't consider myself a smoker. I still strongly dislike the tang of smoke on my fingers, and I know that smoking won't solve any of my problems.
Defiance.
Ha!
I'm such a child...
*) I guess it was especially because I did something really really unreasonable. And I took the time for myself. Just me and the cigarette. I sat under a starlit sky and smoked. Gee, I guess I might have had the same feeling without the coffin nail, but... no! I had to.
Maybe that one is about acceptance, too.
Accept that I'm not as reasonable as I consider myself to be ;-)
posted by Claudia at 23:17
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home