I hate you, I love you. It's that simple. In this age, with the cough I have, being winded after climbing a flight of stairs, it's impossible not to know you're killing me slowly. You poison my body, and I don't think that's proper behavior for a lover.
Of course, you've been there for me in my times of distress. When the world was shit, and nothing was turning out right, your sweet smoke filled my brain with a feeling of hope and relaxation. Your familiarity was a comfort at my side when everything else left me. Just waiting for the bus became pleasurable with you at my side. You gave me courage when I had none.
Of course, it's all a lie. Another effect of the poison you slip into me every time I breathe in your sweet perfume. Depriving me of oxygen and other things normal, living beings need to survive. It's torture, being addicted to you, knowing it's all an illusion but being unable to resist your temptations.
One day, I will find the strength to leave you. So what if I've never succeeded, before? You're not all-powerful. You have a weakness. Your hold on me lessons with each attempt at freedom. I come away a little stronger. A little wiser. You won't be my lover forever. Your days are numbered.
I hope.
So long, readers of my writings, until next time.