One Cigarette And Another Man’s Lighter


“We inhale the very thing that kills us, just so we can feel more alive.”

~ Chrissie Pinney

I’d just like to say, the title of this post was made up as a song name, by one of my greatest friends, who betrayed me. And it was his lighter I used.

I’ve made a big mistake. 
I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
Last night, I smoked my first, and hopefully last, cigarette.
This is something I swore on my life that I would never do.
I have failed a lot of people by doing what I just did. However, there’s only one of them that hasn’t failed me.


Things are very, very bad at home. And last night, I just lost it. I knew I was going to do it as soon as I started trying to talk myself out of it.
So I got one of my mother’s cigarettes. I went outside, and hid in our garden. I looked up at the stars, and I knew I was going to regret this for the rest of my life.
Then I lit up.


Having lived with smokers for my entire life, I knew exactly what to do. So I took a drag, and breathed in the smoke. And you know what? I didn’t cough. I didn’t feel anything.
And I smoked the entire cigarette.
When I went to stub it out I was so dizzy I almost passed out. But then I sat down, cleared my head, and went back to bed. 


There’s people I won’t ever be able to explain this to. So many people just will not understand this. Mainly because many people think my life is perfect.
But there is one person who I think will be able to understand, if I explain.


I stopped self harming a year ago. And after that, I promised myself and quite a few people that I would never do that again. And I meant it. I really did.


Last night, I was at my complete wit’s end. It was either self harm, suicide, or that cigarette.
I know the cigarette sounds trivial in comparison to suicide, but here’s the thing: it was such a shocking thing for me to do. Every moral I’d ever had, every promise I’ve ever made myself, was based around never doing what my mother does. 
Smoking that cigarette was a way of expressing my frustration. And, yes, okay, it was a form of rebellion. Trust me, I’m not proud of myself.
Last night, I needed to hurt myself, or I was going to hurt someone else.
It’s as simple as that.


I promised myself last night, a true, honest promise, that I would never smoke a cigarette again.
And I hope to high heaven that I don’t, because if I do, I know how I’ll be feeling to break that promise: suicidal.


I woke up this morning, and the first emotion I felt was horror.
What have I done?
And I still feel like that. I don’t even know if it was real.


You see, I’ve made a decision. 
I’m not putting up with this anymore.
Last night, my parents – my life – drove me to smoke a cigarette.
And I’m through with it.


So I’m going to put myself first.
I’m going out when I want, and eating what I want, and doing what I want. I’m not going to worry about them.


Because I think it’s time they started worrying about me.

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