Yes, my cigarette. I’m a godamn artist. Not a soy popping premadonna.

Even the smoke that floats upward from my cigarette is healthier than the thoughts I’ve been having lately.

My experiences are creating a mentality I’m actually beginning to enjoy.

You might wonder what this mentality implies, and I might in fact inform you.

Or I could just end this right here and now.

Leave you wondering.

Leave you pondering.

I might even enjoy that in a perverse sort of way.

Might is a beautiful word.
It can imply the best, and the worst of things, all while leaving the statement, generally mysterious.

That sentence might be a comma splice.

If I were to be reincarnated into a word, I might be that word. But that might be giving too much information.

Nevertheless, my sweet petunia’s, I’m in an excellent mood today and will therefore give you the delicious privilege of peeking into my mind for a few precious minutes.
By excellent mood, I mean fucking ridiculous, and by few minutes, I mean many.

I light another cigarette.
Disgusting, I know. But I like the fact that I can do something at 1:09 a.m. and six hours later when you read this, still, provoke a feeling in you.
I’ll be off living my life, likely educating myself, all while you sit here and read this and feel:

A. disgusted by my cigarette habit.
B. enlightened by my ability to not give a fuck.
C. none of the above.
D. Both E & F.

Confusing?
Good.
Yet another feeling I have provoked in a matter of mere seconds.
What’s really going to burst your bubble later is the question of whether or not I really did smoke throughout this entire piece or if perhaps I just said that in order to divert your attention toward everything and nothing that I was saying.
Perhaps I might have done that.

You’re all a generation of endlessly curious little bastards.
It’s time we remedied that.

Back to the new mentality though.
I suppose the proper way to introduce a new mentality is to review the old one.
I used to dedicate myself fully to someone I was with.
And I don’t mean, making a few compromises here and there, I mean, fully.

As in, I would skip school, work, and my own life just so that they were happy.
Well guess what my sweet darlings, the moon no longer chases the sun in the sky.
It shines on its own.
In the dark unpredictable night.

Clarity, it seems, shines bright.
I am putting myself first.
I am who I am, if you like it, excellent.
If not, please, proceed your pompous superficial sheit elsewhere.

I will walk around with no makeup on. I will sit in basketball shorts and have my hair up in a messy bun.
If you do not think you could handle this, I’m almost inclined to feel bad for whoever you might actually choose as your significant other.

Because yes, I have finally become comfortable with who I am and no longer feel the need to fit into your itinerary.

This mentality continues to prosper, and the more I realize, the happier I am.
I might even begin to like this mentality.

Might.

The years travelled at the speed of light, and they watched as we blossomed.
Observing from a bitter sweet distance as their once sweet children became more than they had ever expected.
Their smiles told the tale of pride, and their hearts the tale of undying dedication.
We looked up to them as children, and hoped to one day become even the smallest glimmer of their revere.
Their every word, a guidance.
Their every hope, a goal.

There are those.
There are those whom take up a part of our soul.
The ones whom without, we would be nothing.
There are those to whom each accomplishment we dedicate.
The ones whose words pushed us forward.
There are those.

There are those to whom I will forever be grateful.
There are those.