I’d always been very healthy, considering my asthma. Asthma strains my breath. It makes my chest pump. It’s like getting the wind knocked out of you right after you got the wind knocked out of you. I can run long distances, just not swim them. I can lift a lot of weight, just not explosively. I’m a stallion with stilletos for horse shoes; so much potential, but inhibited by such a silly quality.
Just before I had parked at CVS, a lover's quarrel was holding me back from my full potential, from happiness and content. Fortunately for me, a new avenue was opened up that night, an avenue that offers relief to many people. Going to the gym or listening to cathartic songs as remedies were becoming weak. So... the obvious choice for me at the time was to try something new.
Just before I had parked at CVS, a lover's quarrel was holding me back from my full potential, from happiness and content. Fortunately for me, a new avenue was opened up that night, an avenue that offers relief to many people. Going to the gym or listening to cathartic songs as remedies were becoming weak. So... the obvious choice for me at the time was to try something new.
Hi. I’m Alex Lessard. Can I have a pack of Camel 99s please?
Hi Alex Lessard, can I have your ID?
Oh yeah, sure.
I handed her my license. When she said happy birthday, I couldn’t help beaming. I wasn't innocent. I was buying cigarettes: 20 grown up pixie sticks. I also got a lighter; it was red and gray with a rubber grip. BIC made it… I’m doing my adult back to school shopping, I thought to myself.
I walked out and back into my car. I tore off the plastic to the pack, and held it to my nose. It smelled like raisins. I love raisins.
The foil inside made it even more exciting, almost as if it were the golden ticket found in only select Wonka bars. Pulling that golden tab off, I revealed my candy delights, all lined up, pristine and white. So clean, how can people say this is a dirty habit? I took the lower right hand corner one out. I put the orange tipped end to my mouth and held it there with my lips, which were dry for some reason. I broke open the lighter packaging, held the ligher up close, and ground its wheel to the end of my cigarette. It sparked at first, then on the second it flamed. I breathed in a little and saw smoke coming from the end of the cigarette. I rolled down all the windows and held my steering wheel. Another inhale and my lungs captured all the smoke, later pumping it back up through my nose. I took the cig away from my mouth and held it outside my window. I could see it glowing orange, and I thought it was beautiful. My own campfire. I watched it there for a few seconds with my arm outstretched. I swirled it around quickly. It sucks that my name isn’t JD; Alex is hard to spell out with sparklers. I’m done with kid stuff, up to my mouth again. I watched this time looking down the bridge of my nose. The tip of the cigarette was flaking away, moving the line of decay closer to me, leaving a wake of smoldering ash behind it. It was very cool. What I’m doing is very cool.
After nursing that one, I tried a second. Hand to mouth, hand to mouth. An oral fixation developing. My fingers clamped it, lips grasped it, and my lungs used it. They used all of it. My asthma seemed to have taken a break.
After I had finished, I put the key back to the ignition and started my car. Holding the stub of my cig out over the pavement, I tossed it down.
My adult life started with one of its many privileges being used to its fullest. My conflicting thoughts had been soothed with the mellowing of a good cigarette. One of many 18th clichés, marked off. Self-therapy by way of drug, check.
I walked out and back into my car. I tore off the plastic to the pack, and held it to my nose. It smelled like raisins. I love raisins.
The foil inside made it even more exciting, almost as if it were the golden ticket found in only select Wonka bars. Pulling that golden tab off, I revealed my candy delights, all lined up, pristine and white. So clean, how can people say this is a dirty habit? I took the lower right hand corner one out. I put the orange tipped end to my mouth and held it there with my lips, which were dry for some reason. I broke open the lighter packaging, held the ligher up close, and ground its wheel to the end of my cigarette. It sparked at first, then on the second it flamed. I breathed in a little and saw smoke coming from the end of the cigarette. I rolled down all the windows and held my steering wheel. Another inhale and my lungs captured all the smoke, later pumping it back up through my nose. I took the cig away from my mouth and held it outside my window. I could see it glowing orange, and I thought it was beautiful. My own campfire. I watched it there for a few seconds with my arm outstretched. I swirled it around quickly. It sucks that my name isn’t JD; Alex is hard to spell out with sparklers. I’m done with kid stuff, up to my mouth again. I watched this time looking down the bridge of my nose. The tip of the cigarette was flaking away, moving the line of decay closer to me, leaving a wake of smoldering ash behind it. It was very cool. What I’m doing is very cool.
After nursing that one, I tried a second. Hand to mouth, hand to mouth. An oral fixation developing. My fingers clamped it, lips grasped it, and my lungs used it. They used all of it. My asthma seemed to have taken a break.
After I had finished, I put the key back to the ignition and started my car. Holding the stub of my cig out over the pavement, I tossed it down.
My adult life started with one of its many privileges being used to its fullest. My conflicting thoughts had been soothed with the mellowing of a good cigarette. One of many 18th clichés, marked off. Self-therapy by way of drug, check.
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