It's a red.

At least once a day I hear a comment or see a look that I know people are pondering the question: why do you smoke?

I ponder, why does it matter?

I am young. I am living. I am happy.
Every emotion I feel, I feel it circulate through my entire body and the emotion acts as if on steroids.
Sometimes too overpowering for me to even take.

When I go outside I put on a good song, grab my paper and pen, and light one or two of these suckers and I am freed. I guess it's my hideaway or sometimes my paradise. They go with me everywhere. They feel wet tears and they lay against huge grins.

Sure it may not be healthy, but at this juncture in life I don't care. They are apart of my routines which means they are apart of me. If you can't except me for my bad habits than that to me shows I'm not excepted.