so i’m seeing the girl from the speakeasy. which means, given my pre-disposition to falling for every chemical substance known to man when i’m not trying to be insanely careful, that i’m taking big risks.
so i bought a pack of cigarettes i have no intention of smoking. it’s in my shirt pocket, opened up, so i can smell the sweet smell of the tobacco. it’s distracting. but my addictions come in waves, and i know, from experience, that if i fall down one hole, i’m falling down the niccotine hole as well. so when i smoke on of these cigarettes, it’s time to move on from her. for my own health. my canary.
i’ve resigned myself to the fact that she’s not going to stop yet. she’s younger, still immortal in her own eyes, far from the rock bottom i can see staring at her. i’m juyst happy i get to know her now.
i’m not the type to save people, everyone makes their choices. she’s smart. maybe too smart for her own good – she’s tired of thinking so much she says, she’s taking this time to indulge herself and stop thinking. but she’s smart enough to own this decision.
the smell surround me all the time, interrupting my thoughts. i really want a cig.
this blog is ostensibly about sex and not drugs so i guess i’ll mention we’re fucking fairly regularly and that she’s a licker. in the mornings after we are together i wake up with my entire body’s skin covered in a fine layer of dried spit. i end up smelling like her. it’s lovely. she licks me like i were her cub. always ending up in my groin, and then we fuck.
i’m seeing her again tonight. i’m going to try to straight edge it. she won’t. i doubt she can. we’ll see how it goes. i’m not entirely sure if i’m flirting with her or distaster, to borrow a cliche.
