i was fifteen years old. i was so dumb. the protaganist of the book girl, interrupted smoked (this was in 1994, before angelina jolie was a glimmer in the media's eye). franny glass smoked. courtney love smoked. but, most importantly, my friends smoked. flash forward to 17 years later: WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING!!!?
i know there are other points in my life when i may have started smoking if i hadn't at 15. like at college.
i hate the person i was becoming when i started smoking. the person who didn't believe in herself. the person who gave up on herself. the person who needed a boyfriend to feel valuable. the person who did drugs even though part of her was afraid of them. the person who found redemption, or thought she found redemption, in being "a bad girl." the person who let her boyfriend convince her to become an atheist. i hate that person. i hate that that person is in my past. maybe, somehow, i can exorcise that ghost of the girl i used to be by stopping smoking. because it was her who started smoking, it wasn't me. the real me was underground, letting this fake version of me be my avatar to the world.
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