Vices. cigarrettes stories

lauradoestuff Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   3 years ago
A short intent of an explanation for my own vices, those that make you decay yourself and those around you. Smoking not only hurts you, but those you surround and the enviroment you live in. Excess in alcohol not only damages you, but those you surround.


Her lungs carry weight, a slight shade of grey has covered them in a few short weeks. She has always known how poisons corrode the tissue that carries her soul.

She had always reached for something more, something else.

But the emotions bottle up, and her ribcage seems to want her lungs out. Her breath shortens and her throat aches.

She knows the damage this all does for those around her but she craves a little bit of destruction desperately. To feel safe, to feel protected... To feel at all.

So she burns her lungs, lets the smoke come in and releases it slowly.

Sitting alone with her arms bare and the cold air surrounding her she becomes flame, shinning alone in the dark,

trying to feel accompanied while isolating herself to satisfy her need for self-destruction. She refrains from bringing any harm to those around her but apparently, her pain is invisible to them.

Ignored and pushed aside by all and no one at the same time she seeks relief in the sluggish liquor that will burn her throat. Everyone that drinks for the taste is a fool, she reflects.

She fills the glass whenever she needs to push it all down, somehow it seems a better solution than before.

Those before her and those to come recognise part of this may come from the past, from things she could not control and thoughts she let spiral out of control.

She closes her heart so much that no one will ever know all that lived inside it.

So far, no one has shown any interest in unlocking what drives her to seek the burn, and she so desperately clings to that weakness to avoid confronting her demons face to face once in for all.

It's not the signs of addiction that worry her for she has no addiction to her vices at all.

It's the dependence on the scape from the pain that worries her, the knowledge that the next will be her last, that life may be so fleeting that her demons may overtake it.

But she freezes under it all and has been frozen for weeks on end, for months and years she has remained cold, the temperature dropping every second so she continues to cling to her vices,

hoping they bring that warmth she so desperately needs.

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