smoking for fun turned into smoking to **** time. smoking when i’m happy, smoking when i’m sad, smoking when i can’t feel anything and need something to focus on. the burn in my throat, the dizzying feeling of my brain moving faster than my limbs.

i don’t know who to tell, and i don’t know if i want to tell. if i’m not doing well, if my being has been irrevocably changed by emotion, is it not noticeable to outsiders like it’s noticeable in my head? how can something slowly leaving me hollowed out not spark fear or worry in the people that see me every day?

do i hide within myself to a fault? will this be the fault that ends me?

maybe smoking has replaced a habit that could **** me quicker than my lungs will. i reach for an object and my fingers find the lighter first.