You got a pretty kinda dirty face|Joshler|

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I'm sitting outside. More specifically, I'm sitting outside with a cigarette intertwined between my fingers. I haven't quit, I don't need to quit the habit of knowing, within every drag I take from the cigarette, I die.

Every time I take a drag, a piece of my lung becomes damaged. I also won't quit the relief I get from taking a drag from the cigarette.

I won't quit the weight I get off of my head, mind, soul, when I take a drag, I won't quit the feeling of being light headed.

Why would I want to?

People don't quit intimacy, who said intimacy isn't as dangerous as cigarettes? Although cigarettes might kill you more physically, intimacy holds something stronger Than health, stronger than dying.

Intimacy is showing your love for someone and them showing it back, which means you have to live for each other. Living is more painful than dying. Living makes you go through pain and agony.
Dying. Well dying is just disappearing. Forever, and never coming back.

I had intimacy. Then I had cigarettes. It's not a long story. Nothing in particular is.

I continue smoking the cigarette, looking down at my black vans that now had a small tint of grey do to dirt and ashes.

I try kicking some dirt off while sitting outside, in the night with a group of my "friends" outside of an abandoned apartment in a fairly wealthy neighborhood.

We're all laughing with a bottle of vodka,liquor, and cans of beer along with cigarettes.

We are being care-free as I get my pink Polaroid from behind me and getting a few pictures of my friends laughing with a can in each of their hands.

As I put it away I light another cigarette, holding the stick of nicotine to my lips and inhale then exhale.

I close my eyes as I got up and turned to my friends telling them I was going for a walk.

I get up adjust my skinny jeans with rips all over them, and a black shirt, a flannel around my waist with a beanie placed on my head with my hair poking out.

I walk around seeing the headlights and countless stars, yet there were more in the sky. I remember seeing more stars when I was younger and now, I can't find them.

It's not just the philosophy about how every star is different, something just doesn't feel in place.

I shrug placing the stick between my lips once again.

I fix the beanie on top of my head and-

"Those are bad for you, yanno that right?" A young man, about my age said while walking by my side.

"Did I ask for your fucking input?" I said with anger pulsing through me.

"Jeez i just want you to be safe." He said with a look of offense coming over him.

"Safe? You don't even fucking know me, now do me a favor and leave me the fuck alone. I don't want you here. Heck, I don't even want myself here, but I can't vanish now cause, yanno... your here so can you leave me alone por favor?!" I said almost spitting on the guy.

He had bright pink hair, gauges, and squinty eyes.

"Wait. Vanish? Hey, don't say that or I'm really not going to leave you alone until your okay again." He said trying to give me comfort by touching my shoulder.

"GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME MAN!" I say stomping away from him, leaving him there upset and disappointed.

He doesn't know me. He has no right to lay a finger on me nor talk to me. Who does he think he is? Does he not have manners? Does he not know that life isn't a fairy land where people don't get killed, hurt, or abused? This shit happens and he's lucky that I wasn't some dick that would rob him, rape him, or even murder him.

He's lucky that me and my friends aren't robbers.