Leaving that bar I had a sense of ufloria about this night. It wasn’t the pitchers of barley wine we drank for free. It was the way we got high, it seemed like the perfect amount to send me right into the lights of the promenade. My shoes were off and as I stopped to huddle my shoes to my chest and cover flame. As I looked to continue my advance. I saw a my friend familiar with the law and warrants to boot, stopped by officers on bikes. What’s this! Damn it all! I took that cigarette right to their gooseneck and made an ashtray. I never played football but I felt the feeling of that guy running up the middle next.
My mom used to smoke a lot it kind of made me upset. She would always say that she was going to quit and then never did, so I’m never going to try it. Lung cancer? No thank you. And I want my boyfriend to actually enjoy kissing me.
Jessica
wrapped in an innocent white layer, but filled with toxins and death. slowly but surely the smoke wisps into the air as one’s own soul blissfu
Eric
the cigarette lit up in Jane’s mouth as i retrieved my outstretched hand, a billow of smoke tracing around my arm. i sat back, frowning at the distasteful smell.
The cigarette smoke floated through the air. A huff was heard, and a shook my head to clear it. It was raining, and the haze in my brain was getting thicker along with the hazy nicotine scent that threatened to overtake me. I looked over at him, a rather shy look on my face, and squeaked, unwilling to touch the elephant in the room.
“Look,” He said, the smoke falling out of his mouth with his words. “It just has to be this way, okay? We’re going to leave this place.”
Okay? The rain continued to pound against the window, mimicking my aching heart. Okay…
i think ciggs are grossssss. my mom smokes and im scared shes not gonna be alive when i have children because of it.:( i love her to death and want her to stop
caroline
smoke.
My mom smokes. Not often, but it still bothers me. She does when she is stressed out. It always makes me wonder what is going on in her head.
I hint that it is a bad habit, but she doesn’t do much about it.
Ana
The smell of the smoke hit me as I walked into the club. I looked around the dimly lit room, through the haze of smoke, trying to make out the faces. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.
William
Maybe she was sensing it correctly, and maybe not. But she held her breath before exhaling, long enough that the cigarette smoke came out thin and restless. She took it as a sign. She was the smoke, she knew, and wafted through the room as if people could see through her, as if she would be gone soon anyways, just a smell lingering on their fingers, burning their eyes and drifting into their clothes.
It makes me young and reckless and lets the world know I dont give a shit.
Rose
Odi et amo. I am not a smoker, but my family smokes. I hate going out and smelling like cigarettes, I do my best to avoid it. But, there’s something in them that has the smell of home.
They let this stench seep through them. It’s dangerous. The fumes are dangerous. But they’re addicting, I heard. So addicting that some people, no matter how much they know about the dangers, just cannot stay away.
I love smoking cigarettes but I know the harm it does to my body. Sometimes I try and not think about it while I inhale the white, thick smoke into my pink big lungs. Hey whatever you do to your body is on your own self and I believe that these little basterds help me with my nervous compulsion. Well I kinda ran out of things to say about this little fiend, but I do have many things to say about cigars. Maybe I will discuss that another time.
My sister has recently taken up smoking. I understand when adults smoke, but kids are a whole different story. Peer pressure equals picking up that dreaded cigarette.
Nishat
i used to hack and cough as i walked by smokers. at the time, i justified it with thinking it would encourage them to quit. also it probably made my friends laugh. it’s not healthy, but i do plenty of things that aren’t healthy either. being rude doesn’t help anyone.
Our love disintegrated like all of the cigarette smoke we exhaled together. I now have someone else to share that love with. And he’s truly fantastic. He makes me laugh in coffee shops and buys me pizza and we make fun of the other for how we eat it.
i quit smoking cigarettes. i can’t believe i ever smoked them. i cant stAND THE SMELL OF THEM. I AM A SMOKER THO, NATURALLY. I AM A BORN SMOKER. AND A BADASS SMOKER. COOL. I GOT MANY COMPLIMENTS ON MY SMOKING ESP WHILE BARTENDING OR WAITRESSING.
RianDiane
I kicked at the cigarette on the ground and let my mind wander away from myself. Who had dropped this cigarette? Did they mean to litter or was it an accident? Why were they smoking? Were they hoping for an escape? Were they trying to be cool? Had they picked it up once out of curiosity and never put it down? Did they even know why they smoked? But then again, why do we do anything? Half the things I do could be questioned for meaning – does it have to have meaning? And who’s to say it even makes sense? And who’s to say it has to?
bad habit but very relaxing I must say. I quit not to long ago and am very happy about it. it also smells horrible.
Kacialex
I took a puff and let the ember glow. It was faint at first, a dim glimmer in the moonless night, but as time passed it became larger than that. A flame. A fire. It encompassed everything, took no mercy on us. We were consumed by its hunger.
Maggie W
The tip of the cigarette glowed, giving off the only light to be seen on the dark september night. She sat on her roof wondering about tomorrow, if tomorrow would even come.
the smell i love, but can’t have. julianna on the day of jb’s funeral, smoking by the riverwalk with caleb, so depressed. couldn’t believe his funeral was here, so early in his life. the funeral. so many tears
michelle
Cigarettes are full of nasty toxic chemicals. They CAN and DO cause cancer. Not to mention the horrible things they do to your teeth, sense of smell, and skin. My Dad is dying of lung cancer because he was addicted to cigarettes at an early age. FUCK CIGARETTES.
Angela
taking a long drag from the cancer stick, she then violently stubbed it out on the cracked pavement.
duck
It’s what everyone desires. Luxurious. Peer pressure really plays no part. Maybe it releases stress, maybe not. But I know I fell to it. But never again. Not what it seems to be. That’s for sure. They killed my grandpa. Way too young.
Jessica
he blew smoke rings and she scrunched up her nose.
“you never used to do things like that when we were together,” she said.
“we weren’t together as often as you think.” he replied.
“are you trying to be edgy?” she accused.
“i’m not TRYING,” he said moodliy, and stamped out the cigarette.
I sit on the back porch, overlooking the lake with the quaint house and rocky mountains behind me. Grandma, grandpa, and mom and dad work in the kitchen on dinner. I sit with Uncle while he pollutes the fresh Colorado air with his cigarette.
He threw the cigarette on the ground. I looked at him. “What did you do that for?” “It’s bad for you,” he replied. I scowled. We’d had this argument before. “But I am a sheriff. The sheriff always has a smoke before a job.” He laughed at that.
LeahDino
Smiling yellow teeth followed him. Every time he dragged on the cigarette, he felt worse. Somehow, he wished that it could all go away. The pain. The sadness. Everything. But for now, he satisfied himself with another glass of rum and another puff of smoke.
The smoke floated from between her gritted teeth and drifted into her false eyelashes that were slowly peeling off. Her hand trembled nervously as she shoved the money into his palm “Take it” she growled “it’s not like I got a family to feed or anything”
A
i hate it. This reminds me of the time when i was in prague and everyone was smoking cigarette. well, almost everyone, on the first day at least, until i spot the lighter in the pockets of the rest of the people. it smells bad and it’s bad for your health. yes everyone knows that and it’s stupid. it’s so stupid. jesus christ jose said he used to have a pack for a day. let’s hope the “used to” remains its past tense.
Anna
My lungs are collapsing and all I can do is grab my chest and slowly whither away. The cigarette fell from my fingers and as well as the cigarette, I fell as well.
Anonymous
they smell so gross whenever i think about them i start to smell them, and i cant even understand why it happens. i hate them. so much. i hate the smell. and i have tried them. when i was 3. i took some from my grandmother. it was horrendous. i also accidentally drank the ashes once from a soda bottle. it was disgusting.
alicen
The smoke was enough to stop you breathing as you walked into the building, yet there were a couple of people with their cigarettes standing about in the cold, coughing and pacing. It is such a strange habit, an obsession, that people take up. I think of it as an excuse rather than a choice – they have to do something and just nip out for a smoke before they start or they will have one more before they go home.
Cigarettes, chocolate milk, and a tin of baked beans. This was what he’d worked for, fought for, the independent life, free of his parents’ nagging and rules, of their stuffy house with its warm, comfy beds and always-full fridge and blissful lack of rent.
I just quit smoking cigarettes 5 days ago. I thought it would be more difficult, but i also thought it might feel like more of an accomplishment. Maybe it’s because I still crave. Not bad enough to smoke though. I guess people are right when they say you’ll quit when you’re ready. I was just kind of done one day.
Sydney
I could feel the gun trigger under my finger, the badge digging into my hip every time I moved, and the cigarette smoke choking my sense of smell. I had a big take down tonight and I couldn’t let anything go wrong. He was mine, he was finished, like the end of the burnt out cigarette.
Jack threw his smoldering cigarette butt onto the pavement and stamped it out with his leather boot. He fingered his gun, an antique piece, a Remington revolver never used, and glanced up at the beast lurking between the deteriorating buildings.
“Come and get it,” he said, his southern accent thick.
Leaving that bar I had a sense of ufloria about this night. It wasn’t the pitchers of barley wine we drank for free. It was the way we got high, it seemed like the perfect amount to send me right into the lights of the promenade. My shoes were off and as I stopped to huddle my shoes to my chest and cover flame. As I looked to continue my advance. I saw a my friend familiar with the law and warrants to boot, stopped by officers on bikes. What’s this! Damn it all! I took that cigarette right to their gooseneck and made an ashtray. I never played football but I felt the feeling of that guy running up the middle next.
Smoke filling up my lungs on a hot summer’s day. How I wish I didn’t have to suffer for your bad habit.
My mom used to smoke a lot it kind of made me upset. She would always say that she was going to quit and then never did, so I’m never going to try it. Lung cancer? No thank you. And I want my boyfriend to actually enjoy kissing me.
wrapped in an innocent white layer, but filled with toxins and death. slowly but surely the smoke wisps into the air as one’s own soul blissfu
the cigarette lit up in Jane’s mouth as i retrieved my outstretched hand, a billow of smoke tracing around my arm. i sat back, frowning at the distasteful smell.
The cigarette smoke floated through the air. A huff was heard, and a shook my head to clear it. It was raining, and the haze in my brain was getting thicker along with the hazy nicotine scent that threatened to overtake me. I looked over at him, a rather shy look on my face, and squeaked, unwilling to touch the elephant in the room.
“Look,” He said, the smoke falling out of his mouth with his words. “It just has to be this way, okay? We’re going to leave this place.”
Okay? The rain continued to pound against the window, mimicking my aching heart. Okay…
Sometimes I can sympathise with cigarettes.
Stress sucks the life right out of you, causing you to burn slowly from the top down.
I hope stress gets cancer.
i think ciggs are grossssss. my mom smokes and im scared shes not gonna be alive when i have children because of it.:( i love her to death and want her to stop
smoke.
My mom smokes. Not often, but it still bothers me. She does when she is stressed out. It always makes me wonder what is going on in her head.
I hint that it is a bad habit, but she doesn’t do much about it.
The smell of the smoke hit me as I walked into the club. I looked around the dimly lit room, through the haze of smoke, trying to make out the faces. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.
Maybe she was sensing it correctly, and maybe not. But she held her breath before exhaling, long enough that the cigarette smoke came out thin and restless. She took it as a sign. She was the smoke, she knew, and wafted through the room as if people could see through her, as if she would be gone soon anyways, just a smell lingering on their fingers, burning their eyes and drifting into their clothes.
It makes me young and reckless and lets the world know I dont give a shit.
Odi et amo. I am not a smoker, but my family smokes. I hate going out and smelling like cigarettes, I do my best to avoid it. But, there’s something in them that has the smell of home.
They let this stench seep through them. It’s dangerous. The fumes are dangerous. But they’re addicting, I heard. So addicting that some people, no matter how much they know about the dangers, just cannot stay away.
I love smoking cigarettes but I know the harm it does to my body. Sometimes I try and not think about it while I inhale the white, thick smoke into my pink big lungs. Hey whatever you do to your body is on your own self and I believe that these little basterds help me with my nervous compulsion. Well I kinda ran out of things to say about this little fiend, but I do have many things to say about cigars. Maybe I will discuss that another time.
My sister has recently taken up smoking. I understand when adults smoke, but kids are a whole different story. Peer pressure equals picking up that dreaded cigarette.
i used to hack and cough as i walked by smokers. at the time, i justified it with thinking it would encourage them to quit. also it probably made my friends laugh. it’s not healthy, but i do plenty of things that aren’t healthy either. being rude doesn’t help anyone.
Our love disintegrated like all of the cigarette smoke we exhaled together. I now have someone else to share that love with. And he’s truly fantastic. He makes me laugh in coffee shops and buys me pizza and we make fun of the other for how we eat it.
i quit smoking cigarettes. i can’t believe i ever smoked them. i cant stAND THE SMELL OF THEM. I AM A SMOKER THO, NATURALLY. I AM A BORN SMOKER. AND A BADASS SMOKER. COOL. I GOT MANY COMPLIMENTS ON MY SMOKING ESP WHILE BARTENDING OR WAITRESSING.
I kicked at the cigarette on the ground and let my mind wander away from myself. Who had dropped this cigarette? Did they mean to litter or was it an accident? Why were they smoking? Were they hoping for an escape? Were they trying to be cool? Had they picked it up once out of curiosity and never put it down? Did they even know why they smoked? But then again, why do we do anything? Half the things I do could be questioned for meaning – does it have to have meaning? And who’s to say it even makes sense? And who’s to say it has to?
bad habit but very relaxing I must say. I quit not to long ago and am very happy about it. it also smells horrible.
I took a puff and let the ember glow. It was faint at first, a dim glimmer in the moonless night, but as time passed it became larger than that. A flame. A fire. It encompassed everything, took no mercy on us. We were consumed by its hunger.
The tip of the cigarette glowed, giving off the only light to be seen on the dark september night. She sat on her roof wondering about tomorrow, if tomorrow would even come.
the smell i love, but can’t have. julianna on the day of jb’s funeral, smoking by the riverwalk with caleb, so depressed. couldn’t believe his funeral was here, so early in his life. the funeral. so many tears
Cigarettes are full of nasty toxic chemicals. They CAN and DO cause cancer. Not to mention the horrible things they do to your teeth, sense of smell, and skin. My Dad is dying of lung cancer because he was addicted to cigarettes at an early age. FUCK CIGARETTES.
taking a long drag from the cancer stick, she then violently stubbed it out on the cracked pavement.
It’s what everyone desires. Luxurious. Peer pressure really plays no part. Maybe it releases stress, maybe not. But I know I fell to it. But never again. Not what it seems to be. That’s for sure. They killed my grandpa. Way too young.
he blew smoke rings and she scrunched up her nose.
“you never used to do things like that when we were together,” she said.
“we weren’t together as often as you think.” he replied.
“are you trying to be edgy?” she accused.
“i’m not TRYING,” he said moodliy, and stamped out the cigarette.
I sit on the back porch, overlooking the lake with the quaint house and rocky mountains behind me. Grandma, grandpa, and mom and dad work in the kitchen on dinner. I sit with Uncle while he pollutes the fresh Colorado air with his cigarette.
He threw the cigarette on the ground. I looked at him. “What did you do that for?” “It’s bad for you,” he replied. I scowled. We’d had this argument before. “But I am a sheriff. The sheriff always has a smoke before a job.” He laughed at that.
Smiling yellow teeth followed him. Every time he dragged on the cigarette, he felt worse. Somehow, he wished that it could all go away. The pain. The sadness. Everything. But for now, he satisfied himself with another glass of rum and another puff of smoke.
The smoke floated from between her gritted teeth and drifted into her false eyelashes that were slowly peeling off. Her hand trembled nervously as she shoved the money into his palm “Take it” she growled “it’s not like I got a family to feed or anything”
i hate it. This reminds me of the time when i was in prague and everyone was smoking cigarette. well, almost everyone, on the first day at least, until i spot the lighter in the pockets of the rest of the people. it smells bad and it’s bad for your health. yes everyone knows that and it’s stupid. it’s so stupid. jesus christ jose said he used to have a pack for a day. let’s hope the “used to” remains its past tense.
My lungs are collapsing and all I can do is grab my chest and slowly whither away. The cigarette fell from my fingers and as well as the cigarette, I fell as well.
they smell so gross whenever i think about them i start to smell them, and i cant even understand why it happens. i hate them. so much. i hate the smell. and i have tried them. when i was 3. i took some from my grandmother. it was horrendous. i also accidentally drank the ashes once from a soda bottle. it was disgusting.
The smoke was enough to stop you breathing as you walked into the building, yet there were a couple of people with their cigarettes standing about in the cold, coughing and pacing. It is such a strange habit, an obsession, that people take up. I think of it as an excuse rather than a choice – they have to do something and just nip out for a smoke before they start or they will have one more before they go home.
Cigarettes, chocolate milk, and a tin of baked beans. This was what he’d worked for, fought for, the independent life, free of his parents’ nagging and rules, of their stuffy house with its warm, comfy beds and always-full fridge and blissful lack of rent.
Yeah, this was the life.
It was what he’d always wanted.
Right?
I just quit smoking cigarettes 5 days ago. I thought it would be more difficult, but i also thought it might feel like more of an accomplishment. Maybe it’s because I still crave. Not bad enough to smoke though. I guess people are right when they say you’ll quit when you’re ready. I was just kind of done one day.
I could feel the gun trigger under my finger, the badge digging into my hip every time I moved, and the cigarette smoke choking my sense of smell. I had a big take down tonight and I couldn’t let anything go wrong. He was mine, he was finished, like the end of the burnt out cigarette.
Jack threw his smoldering cigarette butt onto the pavement and stamped it out with his leather boot. He fingered his gun, an antique piece, a Remington revolver never used, and glanced up at the beast lurking between the deteriorating buildings.
“Come and get it,” he said, his southern accent thick.