To understand my story and where I come from, you need to look further. You need to look past what I'm selling you at the front door. You need to see the water marks, left from the tears that rolled down my face. You need to see the bags under my eyes, from all the nights, lying awake in my bed, trying to think of reasons to live.
Yes. It hurts like hell having to convince myself to stay alive, but every time I light a cigarette, well... I enjoy the numb feeling that follows, I enjoy trying to concentrate so hard yet feeling every thought slipping through my fingers. For someone to grasp this concept, I believe, is impossible. Or so I thought... until I realized how many people smoke in secret.
This is for everyone/anyone that can relate. Show this to anyone that has a problem with smokers. Show them even habits can be beautiful.
