Cigarettes

At the steady peak of many wasteful days and nights beginning summer of '97 through '02, I cannot recall the exact time of day (summer '97) of when I started smoking cancer sticks but the primary reason was, no, not to be "cool" but that of personal issues like an alternative to relieving stress. The lack of parenting is sure to be a likely candidate to blame first and foremost, then again, I see this problem as a learning experience. Not every kid that grows up under strict rules ever follow the orders put out by parents in the first place, unless of course, they come from another background. The endless possibilities of screwing up very young is not far fetched but that of natural selection. My father is a hypocrite but he has put an effort to sway me in the right direction by telling me not to smoke and yadda yadda yadda. Being the youngest of three, I can surely say, no one was ever there to look over or after me. The only immediate “family” I've endured were the acquaintances that surrounded me during these young free times. It's official as of yet that smoking is a thing of the past not to ponder and dwell on the hardship that leads me here presently. While polluting my lungs heavily prematurely, I've concluded that no matter what type of smoke enters your body, cold turkey is the most rewarding accomplishment to attain. Once you start to feel the wrath of nicotine and any other chemicals associated by inhaling toxins into your system on a day to day basis, then, you'll know it's time to put up that lighter and call it quits.

On a side note... Left on Earth 2

Three luckies from every pack I've bought have always been saved for the final few puffs. I treated those 3 as if my life was on the line for every encounter and in one instance did I believe it save me for some odd reason. One night I went downstairs in the complex I resided in to enjoy the last lucky cigarette I had in possession with me only to spark up that very moment to gunshots from a guy standing 15-20 feet away letting loose trigger happy. In the split second of hearing and not seeing right when I sparked up the lucky, I had no choice but to run up the stairwell onto the second floor. Minutes later, I come to see a bullet hole penetration from the right side of my Levi's where my knee is located (enter and exit hole). It was only one inch away from taking my knee out and should I thank the superstitious conscience of believing in luckies. Being shot is not what makes you harder or stronger but represents an equal amount of danger to the person who escaped death one too many times as opposed to not ever point blanked or targeted on a few occasions at all. So, don't ever forget those luckies whether 5 or 3 flipped upside down after a fresh pack packin'.