DOSE:

repeated

smoked

Tobacco - Cigarettes

BODY WEIGHT:

160 lb

Here I was in my junior year of college. I was drowning in stress, continually worrying about every little damn thing, questioning everything and seriously thinking about suicide. My girlfriend had just left the country perhaps to never return, my dog and my roommates were driving me crazy, I was unemployed and under-qualified for everything, swimming in a sea of 'feminism this' and 'Patriarchy that', wondering if I was or wasn't transgendered, cutting myself everyday, and I had had a near-breakdown that resulted in me cutting off almost all of my hair and not remembering how or why.

I was off to class one evening, shamefully covering my poorly cropped 'do with a 3 dollar beanie I had bought earlier that day, and I decided to buy a pack of cigarettes along with my coffee from the local gas station up the street from the building my class was in. I had never smoked a cigarette before, but my mother and father and brother all did, my great aunts, grandparents, and most of my other relatives did, and somehow I felt left out in all of that-- particularly since not a one had died of lung cancer and I figure that gives me a one-up in the world of cancer-dodging, at least lungwise (not so much the colon though, oy vey!) I knew a lot of people smoked to relieve stress and by god, that was the exact purpose I was going to smoke for. I was stressed. I wanted out. I figured, 'I'm injuring myself already. What difference does it make if I smoke or not?' and so I lit up. Luckily, I knew what I was doing, in part to the fact that I had smoked everything I could get my hands on besides cigarettes-- including weed, Salvia and DMT-- none of which I could get my hands on anymore without paying exorbitant prices for shitty product. But this was different. It was like smoking an all together alien orgasm. I first was very cautious, not wanting to choke and throw up like I assumed I would after smoking for the first time. I credit my lack of negative reaction to the years and years of second-hand smoke I had endured. I slowly moved up, smoking more. I felt incredibly chill, secure in the fact that nothing frightening would happen, unlike I had felt for the last 20 years of my life. I proceeded to class, but, realizing I was early still, I smoked another. This time, I felt like my legs would give away any second. It was marvelous. I had never felt anything like it before.

Class went well, and in the break I smoked another. Everything seemed ok. I wasn't worried about the fact that everyone around me was talking; I didn't care what they were thinking about. A guy bummed my lighter in the break, and I felt an instant connection-- we were both smokers, a chosen few who sought a high power in the form of a short little fag, hated by many, understood by only ourselves. I went home after class and played with my dog. My roommates weren't annoying me any more. I was happy to be who I was, whatever I was, it didn't matter. I was just me and I was a smoker now. I smoked outside while walking my dog and when she bit me, I calmly said 'No' instead of calling her a little shit and threatening to slap her upside the head (not that I would do that under regular circumstances, but now I didn't even threaten.) I wasn't hungry so I made about half of the amount of food I would make. I ate and I felt full and wonderful. I smoked a cigarette before taking a shower and it was the best damn shower I ever had. I don't give a shit if it's dangerous. It feels great. I know that's dumb in a way, but I stopped caring when I made that decision to take my first drag.

Exp Year: 2010	ExpID: 89096
Gender: Female
Age at time of experience: 20
Published: Jun 5, 2018	Views: 1,084
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Tobacco - Cigarettes (266) : Various (28), Therapeutic Intent or Outcome (49), Depression (15), First Times (2)