The Coffee Companion.

So, today, I sat alone wondering what I could write about. Bereft of inspiration (odd, I know) and with so much spare time on my hands, I thought, 'hmm. I'll light one up'. 

Smoking. One of the worst, most expensive and addictive habits out there that I just love so much...they say you love the things that are bad for you. I guess I agree. So, I thought I may aswell write about that sudden urge; that always-dissatisfied hunger in your brain that stops you from thinking about anything else, and turns you into a savage, nicotine-withdrawn beast.

 

SMOKING

You inhale to the capacity of your restricted, tarred lungs. Hold it in. The heat tantalises your lips while the grey smoke dances around your mouth and you can almost feel the addictive juices dripping into your blood stream like hot bacon fat, dribbling between the gaps of the wire rack. The rush; it’s indescribably good. 

5, 6 puffs later; the stress you carried around like bricks upon your shoulders somehow melts away with the taste of char. I’d go as far to say that it is heroin; an opiate that cannot be overdosed on…a magical leaf that you require ten to fifteen times a day to fight off that boredom and despair. It arrives as a forklift truck, raising you from your nicotine-deprived self-pity and lifting you onto a smoky, happy medium. 

How did I ever live without it?

17 years without a single one touching my lips, then one day- the weather was overcast; a beautiful metaphor- I tried it. My tongue burned and the taste was horrific. It felt as though I had licked a dirty barbecue, and the residue clung to my taste-buds all day. I didn’t feel any guilt, nor shame- just spluttered a little. The high was fantastic. Sneaking off to the end of the school field at the end of my lunch break with my friends…two, three puffs each and I could practically feel the adrenaline spike in my veins. The pace of my heartbeat was literally audible. I won’t forget the sudden thudding in my ears. 

Here I am, five years down the somewhat hazy line. Hooked on a drug that remains legal, despite stealing lives daily. I understand the dangers and toy with the naïve notion that “I could be doing worse things”- like that matters. I learnt as a child, that we need three things to survive: water, food, and shelter, but I had chosen to add a fourth. A disgustingly-delicious and satisfyingly-relentless, unnecessarily expensive habit, that I love so very dearly.