You couldnt call me an addict. It was not like i ever craved for it, but i had done it. I had held it in my very own hands, and i had let it touch my lips. I sucked it in, even though i didnt like the feeling of it. What had gotten me here? Was it peer pressure? Was it the need to be known among a bunch of kids? Was it to impress that one guy who’d probably be too high to even remember the entire relationship? And honestly? You’ll never know what you’ve dragged yourself into. Your once soft and tender eyes will turn blood shot, you will turn pale with every drag you take, and their will be a part of you burning up along with your joint.
Their are so many kids who are dragged into drug dealing, at a tender age. They never know how it feels to have a mother who tucks you in after a long day, they dont get to experience the warmth which comes with having a family. They are made to deal with people who are too high to care whether they’ve had food or not.
I remember that night crystal clear. And it kept playing in my head till I felt like i had to confide it to somebody. Anybody. I was on the way to my gym, and their was this shady lane on the way. Being accustomed to my addiction towards smoking, I searched for a local shop to buy some ciggaretes. And stepping into that shop, somehow, entirely changed my life, in a good way, that is. I looked up to find a little boy, around 7/8 years old, staring at me with sadness in his eyes. And even though we didnt have a heart-to-heart conversation right there, i felt a pang of hurt and guilt when i gave him the money for my smoke. He looked at me, like he had not wanted me to buy something. He looked at me, like he was asking me to turn away, to take the money and go back. To not smoke.
Feeling the need to talk to this boy, i asked him his name and why he was in this shop, while he should clearly be far, far away from this place. He looked at me, mildly shocked that i’d cared to have a conversation with him. I was running late, but not even for a single moment, i felt the urgency to leave the place despite of how dangerous it was. The boy looked at me as if he saw something foreign to him, as if it was too hard to believe that anyone could talk to him without an actual reason behind it.
I spoke to him for ten minutes, and somehow or the other, i’m glad i did. The boy was hurting and hungry, when he found his master, who owned a tiny bar not far away. His ‘master’ had taught him how to smoke, how to make a drink, and stuff like that. The boy asked me how it was to be in school, and asked me to stop coming here. He told me with innocence filled in his eyes, that people who buy that stuff are bad, and they do bad things to him. I knew what he was talking about, and i wouldnt wish that upon my worst enemy.
Having said that, I’ve personally got no issues if you smoke. Hell, we all have coping mechanisms, and its FINE to get away for a while. But do not ever let anything except for pleasure get you in this.
No breakup, no heartbreak, no fight is good enough for you to lose such a precious part of yourself.
We all have issues. You could try writing in a diary. Tell your mom. Do something that makes you happy, not something that makes you high.
I’ll be there for you, if you stop smoking too.
Nevertheless, you’re all the 15/16/17 year olds who are being exposed to a lot of things at once. We’re probably the strongest of generations, who hold the power to move mountains, and change the way the universe works. Take pride in that, and be a better person for yourself.
I hope no one takes this to be offensive