The last cigarette of a pack that I haven’t touched in 11 months. Here I am, and here it is.
I used to wonder how anyone could willingly inhale something that destroys him. But it’s clear to anyone who has ever smoked. I exhale this disgusting mix of vague emotions, and I wish naively that less of it remains in me. I don’t want to talk, and I don’t want to feel. I want to exhale silently.
More deeply, I just want to vanish. Without questions or explanations, just to close my eyes and never see the light again.
Oh God, are you there to hear my desperate cries?
Please take away everything that you have given me, everything.
If this is a test, how wonderful of a master are you!
I give up. I lose. I fail.
With as much confidence that I exist now, I am confident that I will die one day. I will leave the places that I’ve lived on and they will be occupied by others. Everyday between today and then is a punishment that only a masterful mind could incur.
What more evidence do I need more than that my punishment fits my crime?
If you existed, you would have hated me, I’m sure.
If you exist, you would condemn to Hell in life, and fire in the afterlife.
Who am I to argue that I deserve your mercy?
Who am I to argue that I deserve to die?
My enemy is the judge himself, and the judgment, and the law.
Can I ever win?
Let us inhale and exhale, we win if we die, we win and God loses.