I remember my younger self being a willing secondhand smoker. I would stand behind my grandfather whenever I caught him puffing away, dabbing the lit end against his half-full (or half-empty, if you think like me) ashtray. To catch a whiff of this gray cloud was heaven; it calms my dainty, sugar-powered body. Ignorance is bliss.

Years later, I still haven't had my first stick. I now cover the lower half of my face in the presence of "suspended lung cancer". I learned to defend my right to breathe partially-polluted air (let's face it--we're not exposed to fresh oxygen) from the smokers who enter my immediate inhaling area. I try to avoid cigarette smoke consciously, but sometimes I just can't help smelling it... and once the scent fills my nostrils, I admit to myself: this is my guilty pleasure.
metaphornographic metaphornographic
18-21, F
2 Responses Aug 18, 2014

For me it was my mom that always smoked around me... I actually despise smoking, but I love the smell. Ugh. Cigarette Perfume, anybody?

Omg but I hate the smell when it's stuck to clothes! Am I weird? (x

This smell was the reason that I started smoking. I haven't regreted it yet. For now I am enjoying smoking.

I don't think I'll ever smoke. It seems like a habit that's hard to break and hard to fund. q:

I waited until I was 50.

How was it?

Its awesome.

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