The Parable of the Smoker

Just something I wrote today, about a life of smoking.

A young boy feels the smoke curl around in it's mind, inhaling deeply while a tickling feeling invites it into his longues. He coughs the smoke out as his friends laugh around him, knowing what he's doing is wrong, but he feels so tough and confident he finishes the cigarette. In his eyes, he was now like all his heroes in the movies, a better version of himself.

As he grows older the cigarette is still in his hands, every day, every hour. The confidence the cigarette gave changed to an illusion. He believes every time he blows the smoke into the air above him, all of his worries and pain vanishes with the smoke. This illusion is so powerful, yet so shameful, he hides it from his family. The burden becomes like a heavy chain around his neck.

As his hair becomes gray, he spends his day gasping for air and barely... barely alive. He has cancer. He has been told he only will have a couple of weeks to live. A hospital bed is now his home. The doctors his best friends. A family member comes up to his bed, and asks him a question: 'Was it all worth it?'. The man smiles, regret in his eyes. But still, he answers: 'Do you think I can have a cigarette?'.