Pressure
gets to the best of us. This is one such story…
The
smoldering cigarette was thrust in his direction. A trail of smoke connected
the two boys, as one tempted the other.
He
didn’t have an interest in the small, slow death sentence, but the glare in the
other boy’s eyes made him feel weak and powerless. He hated those feelings; the
feelings that arose when his father had drunk too much and took it out on him.
He was sick of feeling like a tick under his father’s skin and he hated feeling
feeble.
The
little cigarette looked disgusting, but his fascination with fire combated his
disgust. He had always loved to see the flames of a fire dance merrily when
they consumed wood. He had set many things aflame; just to have the pleasure of
watching them burn to ash. He felt so powerful in those moments.
All
these thoughts swill viciously in his mind as he decided which path to take at
this cross-road in his life. He could relent and let the other boy win, or he
could decide to live free of the chains of addiction.
The
other boy was getting impatient. He pushed the burning cigarette closer and
insisted once more. He used every persuasion technique. He said it was cool and
that they helped people relax. He listed all their friends that did it. But
when the rest didn’t work, he threatened to never hang out again if he didn’t
start the habit.
Pushed
into a corner, the boy tentatively took the shrinking cigarette. His hands
shook as he lifted it to his dry lips. He inhaled once.
He
was hooked for life.
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