Thrive

Part Fifteen - Lipstick Stained Cigarettes

I never did used to smoke, I swear, but after long years of watching those around me light one every time things got tough, it finally wore down on me.

I'm not such a rebellious person.

At fifteen, sixteen, seventeen you're assumed to have done all the things your parents told you not to do.

You smoke and drink and have meaningful yet meaningless sex.

You become rebellious.

But I am not rebellious, no I am something far worse.

I am sad, depressed.

I smoke because I like it, not because I was told not to. 

I drink because it takes the hurt away, even if it's only for a short amount of time.

I have meaningless sex because I have yet to figure out why it shouldn't be meaningless.

And I have dated far too many people to the point where I forget some of them until my friends remind me.

I'm a mess of a human whose lipstick stained cigarettes are the only constant thing in my life.