"I tell myself one pack of cigarettes won’t kill me, but then I smoke three in one night and worry about when I’ll run out.
Right now I’m wondering if maybe death by cigarette is perhaps a better way to go than another hole in my chest put there by a boy far more addictive than nicotine.
Maybe life is choosing which toxin you give the power to kill you.
Up until now I picked a poison in the form of messy hair and searching lips and quick apologies that I didn’t really need anyway, because god, did you see his eyes crinkle when he smiled? I had no choice.
So now I’m going to give this smoke my heart, at least for a while. After all, it makes my hands shake and gives me a different smell just as much as he did.”