Smokin’!

I am continously fighting this urge to smoke, yet I have never smoked in my life. I’ve been around second hand smoke a good portion of my childhood, but personally I have not picked up the habit or had the desire to until somewhat recently. Every time I go into a convenience store, I have an internal debate with myself if I should buy a pack or not. I know which one I would buy. The ones my paternal grandpa always smoked. Unfiltered Camels. I think, if I just cave and appease this questionable craving, I will be satisfied and continue on with my short little life. Then, I think about foolishly destroying my healthy lungs and all the consequences thereafter. The best explanation I can come up with that could be fueling this fire, this smokey fire, is my medication for my mood disorder. It’s a medication that is ironically administered to help people stop smoking. ( I never know if I correctly use the word ‘ironically’ in a sentence.) So I think, is it having the opposite affect on me?

I lie here in my bed and fantasize smoking a cigarette while staring up at the ceiling, wondering what hell I’m doing.

Я должен фантазить о том, как прикасаться ко мне во всех моих запрещённых местах.

I haven’t been writing about the news lately because I am binge reading everything right now and processing and researching what I’m reading. I am not sure if this behavior is sound or an uncontrollable obsession. Its like a high for me. My brain feels like its starving for information. It could quite possibly be a coping mechanism to deal with the loss of my dad. I have thought about that. Do I somehow believe I need to take on the role he once had, though I’ve definitely taken it quite farther?

I admit, its healthier than smoking.

My Tankster. He’ll be 6 months in two weeks.

This is Yoga but I usually call her Yogy bear.

This is Zilla. She’s more chill than Yoga. I’ve had them both for a year now.

Smoking some dried herb *wink* *wink*

Triden. He doesn’t give a fuck. He’s King Triden and we are all his peasants.