the far away tight-eyes look
i miss smoking. slipping on my open-heeled uggs, and going out on the balcony and opening the outer window. my ashtray was a little green and white soy sauce dish that would fill up all-too-quickly with butts.
what i miss most is the opportunity it gave me to really think about a subject, just one subject.
i could have a look like that smoking matthew mcconaughey meme. or look dejected with cigarette tenuously hanging by my side, taking short, angled drags. or i could be exhausted, leaning back and barely smoking, ash falling on the tiles.
even without a cigarette in my hand, i could sit at the kitchen table and just think - like i did the morning of my wedding, or after a long day at work.
in any of those cases, i was thinking only one thing. it could have been a moving passage i'd just read, a mistake made at work, or how much my heart ached for the latest woman i’d fallen in love with.
though i’ve found focus through meditation, exercise and other habits, it’s not the same kind of focus i had back then. i rarely just sit and think any more.
honestly, i grieve for that lost part of myself. i’ve been talking about identity a lot these last days, and maybe it seems strange to mourn something so physically harmful.
though i’d do anything to be able to slip into those seven minutes of heaven again.