Slow Death By Smoke: Will This Be Me?

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I go outside. My innards are churning like crazy and I search my pockets for my lighter and cigs.

*Emma, stop this. you know its wrong*

I find it. I hold the lighter up

*Emma what are you doing? please I am begging you*

I light the cigarette anyway. my conscience screams inside of me

*EMMA WHY ARE YOU KILLING YOURSELF?*

Because, conscience! It's all I know. It's all that I am used to and i can't go back now. 

I hold it up to my mouth, lit and ready to go.

*Emma. please put it down* My conscience now is a whisper, it hasn’t got much hope left

And now everything is getting blurry because my eyes are clogged with salty water

Is this really what I've brought myself to? 

I take a puff

*NO, EMMA NO!*

Too late, conscience. You lost again. You're fading now and I can't hear you very well

Puff, whiff, ahhh.

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