I thought he would be safe. He was the "goody-goody". Never went against the law, made sure he kept face at all times. He promised he never would. I told him! I warned him! He knows what happened to me. It's so great to him. Just one hit he said. He only took one hit this time. He said the world was in slow motion. What a wonder, what a thrill. I wonder if he realizes. I don't think he understands. People's lives get ruined this way. Mine was, for three years. Wasted. Gone, never going to get them back. Maybe my experience was just more extreme. I was already falling, I was already lost. You see famous people smoking it all the time. This is harmless compared to other things. This is better? Perhaps? But what is next. Probably nothing. I am over reacting. But still i worry, still i cry. Still i fear him coming down to my level. I am trying to reach up, he was helping me. But I am dragging him down.
He fears my disappointment. He wants to make sure it's ok with me. They way i reacted last time, i know it matters to him. I return to my ability to be cheery through the lump in my throat. He can't see my tears, doesn't know my fear of losing him down the drain. Can't fathom the heartbreak of knowing he is smoking away that brilliant mind of his. It happens rarely. I shouldn't be so worried. I know that.
I have been so tempted lately. My sister I found out still smokes cigarettes. I also found out she has a tattoo. A real one. GOD! Why does that bother me? Just last year, that would have made me a little angry, but nothing more. What would I care? This is when i wish i could go back. Back to when I felt this odd numbing pain. But no, why would I want that? I wanted to let go, to get out of that for so long. Maybe I just want to be saved from these emotions that are popping up out of no where. But no, that was no protection. That was a mask. That was poison. That is not what i want him to know, to understand, to be familiar with.
I am lying again. Twice in one night, i am on a record. I try to fit myself to those lies. those little white lies i hope dont bite me in the ass. I try to convince myself what i told Him. No, it doesn't bother me. I try to laugh and joke about it. It works. I can hear the relief and happines in his voice. I wonder if now he will do more tonight. Now I must worry wide eyed in the night, burning eyes, buring lies, burning and tearing away at me. A little. More? No. I wont let it. He rarely sees them. He's not like me, he wont let it get too far. It's ok. I love him. Don't worry. I'm not worrying. Of course not. Why would I? I survived. Mine will be worse than his experience will ever be. I know that. I am being rediculous.
I convince myself of the first lie.
I try for a second one.
My sister's tattoo. Her smoking. That doesnt upset me as much. Her smoking in the car just makes me want to ask her for a hit. Just makes me want to put that beautiful filter in my plump lips. I just want to surround that end tightly in my waiting lungs, my craving mind. I only want a little inhale. I only want to feel that cool, smooth smoke pour into my lungs, watch the red light brighten like Rudolph's nose. Quietly watch as the paper disintigrates into my yearning chest. I need to watch the smoke billow out of me in a cool swirling whiteness that surrounds me for a second in brilliant wonder before it is caught whirling endlessly out the window. But most of all, to release this horrible stress. Just one hit. Just one puff. One moment of weakness. One moment of bliss, to feel that amazing craving of menthol fulfilled, completed, relaxed and lightheaded relief. Of not having to hold back anymore. To watch my worries swirl away and out of the window. Caught up in that beautiful pureness of white. My mouth becoming a factory tower, continuously spewing out its left overs.
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