Quitting the haze!

There are five people sitting across me. Four of them holding their thinking sticks and smoking them. They are the decision makers and the power players; at the least they are trying to be or becoming to be. I on the other hand am quiet and taking it all in; all their talks, their fibs, their jokes, their questioning stares and their much wanted unwanted smoke coming out of their mouths. There’s a golden, circular ashtray kept on the table and stubbed cigarette butts lying around the periphery like used up whores who provide cheaper thrills for 4 minutes of their unwanted circumstantial lives.

Any of them, on failing to stub and put out their cigarettes dead, the smoke still emanating from the thrown cigarette, hits my nose. My blood goes in overdrive, my brain refuses to listen, my mind frays at the edge of reason, and my senses shut down. All I can breathe is the smoke coming out of the almost stubbed cigarette. Like a reflex action my hand jumps at the availability of the lit, almost unfinished cigarette, which has to offer almost one good drag of sense into my mind, bring my brain back from oblivion and rekindle my senses again at least for the next four seconds. Inside me there is this stupid, insane, mindless, unreasonable, naïve voice, apparently it goes by the name of “Will”.

Mr. Will, a coward, who is realistically inclined and very much in a position to loose its stupid arguments with my most logical mind and technically wants to give up; for reasons beyond my understanding, cannot. Instead of taking the cigarette, holding it between my fingers and taking a drag and returning to sanity; it somehow overtakes my hand and makes my hand stub the cigarette as if to protect itself, to protect me. The stubbed cigarette now done with and very much dead, is crushed. All of a sudden there is absolute silence around me. Absolute Silence. All is Silent, all for a lousy second. Then it hits my mind like a tsunami. Wait a minute! What just happened? How did Mr. Cowardly Will become so strong in a split second????? Everybody is astonished, looking at me as if I have gone completely, raving-ly sterile.

Almost all out the five have stopped talking and smoking. Stopped whatever they were doing and are looking at me like five pimps; who have taken what Mr. Will just did, to their heart and as if they are mortally wounded by what I just did. As if my will has let them down somehow. All of them wanting a piece of me, literally, pun intended.

I on the other hand am absolutely quiet. Lost, in the past. The past – funny words.
There was a time I used to smoke at least two whole god damned packets of Mr. Bengis. I usually wouldn’t be seen without a whore between my fingers. These whores, were the only ones who could actually satisfy me, really satisfy me. So much so that my lungs would scream, yell, shout and my mind like it always has, maybe always will, wouldn’t ever listen. Everything was perfect then. It used to be a perfect world. Temptations used to whirl me around, used to make me feel somehow wanted, somehow always giddy with a silly grin across my face. My hands never used to shake. My mind never used to scream. My blood never used to want. To top it all off, Mr. Will used to never show up; all was sane, all because of Ms. Temptation. The present – a tough place to live in; gives a much inverted picture. With everybody around me smoking-ly sane, I don’t know how to handle my insanity. I am trying everything else I can,to bring it back, bring my sane mind back; a beer, a scotch, a cigar, a drive, the beach, the café, water, chewing gums, bubble gums, candy, chocolate., muffins, more food, more air, more, more, more, more of everything and anything of more. Sadly, and quiet sadly nothing comes close to a tiny fag worth 7 minutes of my so called precious life (I fail to see how at the least my life can be precious), which lasts for about 4 minutes, give or take 2.

This whole episode, has led me somewhere, a place within me, a fort named Resolve. It has profoundly made me stronger (going by the words “What hurts you, only makes you stronger” or “What makes you mad, only makes you more sane”), more un-bothering by events happening around me, more in your face types. It has also thrown questions at my weak mind; how long can I really hold my Resolve with my will?

How long, indeed?