I watch the embers burn, trying to decipher their language. As if they’re speaking to me. As if there’s some ungodly truth behind each flaking bit of ash.
I hate the smell of cigarettes. I hate smoking.
But, still, I inhale bit of nicotine and carcinogens and traces of fatal poison, and I feel a rush of mild euphoria overcome me, a feeling that is both familiar and unknown.
Wind tears through my red American Apparel hoodie, stabbing the skin underneath. I try to ignore it as I exhale and examine the shapes my smoke and breath take. Then, I just watch the burn shifting my gaze between this warm cancer stick and the flood of city lights glowing below.
Something is coming. In a city like this one how can it not? In a world like this, every moment is full of possibilities. Maybe I’ve been trying to control the wrong situations. Maybe it’s time to let go. Come at me, universe.