I began high school and was nervous. It sure was a larger school. Stairs, elevators, even a cafeteria! I was preparing for the best and making sure high school would be a turning point for me. Picked my classes and began what I hoped was to be a good year. I surely underestimated the pressures high school comes with and the leniency of not having to really show up for class. Spares? Wow how exciting. I get an hour off in the middle of the day to do what I want? Some of my family members were smokers so guess it was inevitable…I took up smoking. Started hanging out with the kids at the smoke doors. Getting cigarettes was easy. My father would buy them by the cartons and being a heavy smoker, he would never notice when a pack was missing. The cigarettes seemed to take an edge off. Relax the pressures going on in my heart. I was addicted rather quickly. Couldn’t wait to have the next one. I apparently had a bladder problem, my teachers thought. Any excuse to run to the smoke doors and have a quick puff. At home? The house was so large, everyone else smoked so where the smell was coming from was never a concern. It was way to easy being a smoker. I could hide it from my family well. Any time I would cry or feel scared, it would make me feel better. Sixteen years old. A smoker and over weight. I was with the popular kids though. They hadn’t really noticed I was different. When I would first get to the school in the morning, suffering from severe depression from the nightly episodes, the cigarette would help me start the day. I was with the cool kids. I had to be cool like them. I didn’t want them to notice anything was wrong with me. I was becoming a pro at hiding stuff. I was becoming a pro with excuses that made sense. I was believable. No one ever questioned me. Wow did I love my cigarette.
theangelsforgotme 