Camel No. 9 100s

I think I understand why my dad smokes and why it's so hard for him to quit. The calm that washes over me after smoking a cigarette is kind of addictive. Although I'm terrified of my family finding out that I keep a pack of Camel No. 9 100s in my purse pretty much all the time, I've taken to sitting on my dresser next to an open window and enjoying one. It's sort of romantic in a way. I just sit there and watch the street, the occasional car passing by, and I enjoy my cigarette as my ceiling fan dissipates the smoke rising from the ashes on the end. I like the way those 5 minutes feel like 15. I like escaping. I like climbing down off of the dresser and feeling looser and heavier than before. I like the calm. I need the calm. Maybe when things don't seem so confusing I won't need it anymore. But my one cig a day gives me something that even weed can't. No more than 2 in one day is an easy rule to stick to for me because I'm not smoking to be cool. I know I shouldn't use it as my escape but it's just so romantic to me, and I'm hopeless in that area.