Smoke

* i wrote this a good 10 years ago - now i get to type it*

The grey smoke rose over my head, like a dark cloud
fogging my view.

The little white tube rolling between my fingers, like a living
thing.

Burning & crackling to fulfill  my need.

It's not easy to B

I can't remember if i read this somewhere, or i saw it in a movie, but it has never made more sense..

'it's not easy making friends and the older you get the harder it becomes'

Not for the fact that people become more judgemental, nor the fact that they become harder to please and embrace, but for the simple fact that we know what we want and what we don't want.
As is the way with anything you like or dislike, you simply choose to expose yourself to something or disregard and move on.