My Last Cigarette Ever!

I finally acceded to it once again, even though I had promised myself not to. Everyone had prognosticated that I would succumb to the shackles of my own desires. These were no ordinary shackles though, these were shaped in the notional world as those used on the prisoners of Bastille under King Louise, clasping around arms and legs so tightly that I could only submit and do nothing else. I clenched it in my hand from the tip, gazing at it as if it was the most superlative sin that I was about to commit. Regret and impulse filled me up simultaneously as I slowly moved it up and put it in my mouth. This was supposed to be my last cigarette ever, the last of many.

The sinner in me exhorted me to shut the conscience part of my brain and just light it while the saint in me told me absolutely nothing for he didn’t exist. I moved my index finger and my thumb alongside the length of the tobacco enrolled in the most delicate of white papers, so fragile that I could break it in two with no force at all. I pressed my thumb against the crude tobacco on the top begging to be smoked. I remembered the first cigarette I ever had. How I thought it was no big deal, how I thought getting addicted was just a myth used by adults to keep children away from smoking. Oh how gravely mistaken I was, thinking to myself slowly I pulled my hand up gently placing the sponge like filter in between my delicate lips touching the rough end with the tip of my tongue, tasting the last of what I was going to forgo.

I flipped the zippo rather anxiously in my right hand being careful not to drop it, for it held sentimental value. This was my quitting zippo. I had decided that whenever I would light my last my last cigarette, it would be with this particular lighter. It had a rather rough exterior and a drawing of a skull on it, probably signifying what would happen to me if I don’t stop. The irony of the skull being on the face of a zippo was rather hilarious and it put a grin to my face with the cigarette still in between my lips. I opened the brass lid with my thumb revealing the flint wheel and the wick. I slid my thumb over the wheel rather aggressively igniting the lighter as I moved it up and gazed at the reddish yellow flame resembling a crimson moon since it terrified me.

I was not one to get scared and run away so easily though, I had come too far. I pulled the lighter close to my face putting it just under the tip of my “regret” and inhaled as soon as the tip touched the flame. The heavy smoke filled up my mouth and lungs all at once, rushing through my body as though it was trying to fill a vacuum created over a course of years. I kept the smoke in, and then slowly took the bud out of my mouth holding the cigarette in my hand and exhaling the smoke slowly. I was at peace would be an understatement. I closed my eyes thinking to myself about my last cigarette ever. How it was supposed to be a year ago, and how I had been a prisoner to my own lust and desires repeating the same process since then for every single day.

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