Somewherezig, Germany
I saw a cigarette butt on the sidewalk. A long butt more than half a cigarette, and I felt a pang, an old urge to pick it up, find a match, and light it. I could feel the smoke surging into my lungs, the instant buzz head clear rush, and I wanted it. After thirty-five years, I wanted it. Not enough to do it, but I wanted it. I started smoking when I was about thirteen and finally quit at twenty-nine. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I quit over a hundred times before I figured it out. My saving grace was my damn stubborn streak. I watched my dad struggle with it, I don’t think he ever really got over it, and I had a close friend die of lung cancer. The vaping world makes me crazy. Why would our county or state allow nicotine to be added to a product knowing the hell it creates for people. Maybe vaping is a little healthier, who knows. I don’t understand justifying this horrible, chemical bondage, because––it’s maybe a little healthier.