That good/bad after taste.

I've picked up smoking.

For the most part of my childhood and adolescence, I hated the smell of cigarettes (and I still do, off and on). I was even once so naïve as to say I would never pick up smoking, NEVER. But here I am, enjoying almost a pack a week.

I don't flaunt it out in public; I wouldn't call myself a social smoker. Most often, I have a cigarette at home, in secret. I rarely smoke with friends. Maybe one or two sticks when I'm out drinking, but I don't drink often so I guess you could say I'm pretty private about it.

I guess, it's because I'm probably somewhat ashamed. Silly? Quite.

Heh, remember about two years ago when you started smoking? Remember how I scolded you, made you feel bad about it, told you how stupid you were for smoking just to fit in and look cool? I wouldn't give you two seconds of peace until you promised to quit and eventually you did. And I was so happy… ugh, I wonder what you would say now. "Hypocrite."

This might sound kind of strange, but I find a kind of sick, twisted satisfaction in the fact that smoking is now the one vice we share (or shared, depending on whether you still smoke). It's kinda fucked up that I would even find such vague solace in the thought. I sound depraved.

I wonder if you would try to stop/discourage my smoking now, if we were still friends. Would you? Well. I guess I'll never know.

And it just hit me that I haven't vented about you here in a long time. Then again, it's a different story on Tumblr. I guess I just haven't used Blogger in a long time, it's not that I haven't thought about you recently.

Actually, the past two weeks or so have been insanely trying. I don't know why now of all times, but that's the way it is. I often wake up from long winded, weird ass 3D looking dreams of you and me and always, the dreams take place or begin at the same location; our old high school. You're in a pinafore, your hair tied in two short pig tails. Sometimes, the dreams are so real, I confuse them with memories. There are nights when I don't know what is real and what is not.

By the way, I texted you because I missed you. And I still do. Very, very much.

Oh gosh, I'm so pathetic. It's just one friendship right? Why the fuck should I even care this much? Bullshit. This is complete bullshit. People get torn up like these over breakups, divorces. So why am I reacting this way? Tons of childhood friendships never make it past college; deal with it.

Damn it, you were the most important person in my life for the past 8 years. And to be very brutally honest I don't know how I'm going to make it through the next 8. I could try to replace you, and I'm not going to lie and say that I haven't tried, but it's pointless. It's just… nothing seems the same. Nothing's as good as it was, way back when.

 

 

Please just tell me how I can make this right again.