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A Box of Cigarettes

I had this feeling that whoever smokes is a bad person unless I became one.
It started from hating cigarettes to loving cigarettes to hating them again.
A box of cigarettes is what a part of my life story revolves around. I saw them in the hands of my crush making me feel anxious to know if she smoked and angry to find out, yes what if she smokes.
Than I had a question playing with my mind whether it is rational to judge her for what she is? will I stop liking her if she smokes?
It started making sense that if she smokes, its her choice and its her life. She should get the privilege to choose what she wants .
After that, the box of cigarettes in her hand never disturbed me again and I started to fall in love with boldness she would present.
And than one day I was sitting with her in my alone time. talking to her about life’s crisis and fame, when she reached for her bag and slipped her hand inside it to get the box of cigarettes with a lighter this time. I saw her smoking for the first time in my life and then she offered me to take a drag which I denied.
I would see her smoke a lot after that and she had stopped offering me the drag. I would sit besides her and laughed and talked in that smoke, thinking that one day she would love me with all my childish hopes.
One day I asked for a drag wishing to impress her but lost my control over it and I coughed for next half hour.
It than became a routine to share her cigarettes. It gave me opportunity to spend most of my time with her.
The box of cigarettes increased my chances of meeting and looking at her lips and the lucky smoke touching it every time.
One day she took a farewell to continue with a new life leaving me behind with all the unspoken feelings in my mind. The heart would hustle to see her once but nothing of her I found again.
The box of cigarettes was all I had got which helped me to feel her with the kick on my brain. The box increased their numbers in my life and even if she wasn’t there, she was the one it always defined.
I felt my chest turning dry as leaf and my mouth hot as a lava. My lips had turned hard and my mind was not there where I was.
I hated smoking but still kept doing it only to feel the itch on my throat making me sound very low. I would have lost all I had, only if I wouldn’t have controlled my mind to drive it away from the box of cigarettes.
Cigarettes smoking kills.


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