Warning: Bit Serious

Everything seemed very odd when I woke up this morning. There is always some form of "sleep" in my eyes, but not so much that it's a medical problem. I thought I was back home, and that to me suggested that this is where I wanted to be at that moment in time and space. It wasn't so so early that I couldn't go anywhere or see anything, so I shoved on a stripey 30% off t-shirt that smells a bit and my chavvy trakkies Mumkins bought me and stepped out the door.

I'm going to re-direct this to something more substantial, because I don't want this to deteriorate into a diary of my life. I see loads of those, and they all look like the above.

In layman's terms, when it comes to smoking, I am what is commonly known as a "pussy." My parents would always say that you should never smoke because of all this damage it can do to you. The school always rammed it down our throats, which would either scare the shit out the little kids or simply make them want to do it more. I didn't need the toilet for three days after.

My brain was a bit fuzzy this morning. I don't think it was drink, but I was incredibly laggy from tiredness. It was like my brain had been wrapped in cling film and then frozen for a couple of days. Then it was given back to me to try and defrost before I could use it. This image, although in some ways is the most accurate description I could come up with, doesn't work - I probably wouldn't be alive, let alone turn the microwave on. I've always figured that creativity comes above science and facts, because even though something isn't true, it still makes sense more than something which is fact. Hellyeahdeepkthnxbye.

Londis' is my local corner shop. So in my stripey 30% off t-shirt that smelt a bit and chavvy trakkies Mumkins bought me, I stepped out the door. I didn't feel the cold. The llama in the field next to me looked colder than I was. I would have invited him in with me for a cup of warm tea and a digestive, but I resented the fact he had a coat and I didn't. Plus, we screwed up the shopping that week and only had normal digestives, not the chocolate ones. I know where the bell is on the door into Londis' and it doesn't make sense. The bell is on the outside of the shop, so when you leave, everybody knows, but when you enter, you were the world's coolest ninja. They even show the CCTV footage on the big screens. Half of them clearly don't work. If you are reading this and would like to take part in "a crime", I personally recommend the cereal aisle.

My feet carry me straight to the till where I request one packet of "those light browny ones on the right". You can tell I'm a regular. I nearly forget the lighter, but don't. One lighter too, please. I asked for a red one, because the green ones look like you're using toxic waste to light up. I prefer blood. I don't get ID'd in Londis' anymore because they know I'm old enough. From somebody who looks fifteen now and has always had ID trouble, this brightened my day. I left the shop, alerting everybody that I was doing so, and headed back.

The llama wasn't there anymore. It had gone cloudy and even the ponies near the Art's Institute were hiding in the bushes. I got back home right away because I was spooked, not even noticing that I'd had my house key in my hand for the entire trip. I walk over to my window and open it as wide as I can (which isn't that wide), and look at the cigarettes I'd just bought. Everything leading up to this point had told me "No, you cannot do this." It even said so on the packet. Sure I'd taken a few drags from others before, my parents would never think I hadn't taken a cheeky one with mates, but I'd never felt anything. The only way that I could really make the decision for myself would be to take one of those little deathsticks and smoke the whole lot of it. That way, I can truly say to myself "Ok that was quite good" or "Right now I feel a bit unwell." Then it's my decision.

My parents are right, as always. They are always right in some format and in that respect they have mine. But allowing others to make their own choices and mistakes is crucial, and I really, really did not understand the concept behind smoking other than it warms you up a bit. Maybe if I'd smoked the whole pack then I would become addicted, but from only smoking one I can't really see the value in getting addicted to something that isn't that great. My room didn't smell after which I was happy with. My housemates would have had every right to throttle me for smoking in the house. Luckily, my neck is intact, and I am still a pussy. But at least I chose to be.