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Rated: E · Outline · Dark · #1973586
The Resurrection of a cigarette
He felt a strange calmness within. Ideas were swirling through the brain. Nothing too clear, nothing too bright. But their very existence gave him some pleasure. The acknowledgement of their presence gave him some reassurance that he was indeed meant for greater things, that one day he would think up something that might change the world. But then, his thoughts came back to the present. Reality is a bitch they say, and how right they are about things like that. Thoughts were now moving faster than light. The brain can process negativity faster than anything else. His thoughts were about his life and how bad his present situation was, how much better off everyone else was. His brain followed its programming by releasing liberal amounts of cortisol, depression slowly crept in. He wanted to make it stop , go back to being happy , go back to when he was thinking about going to the play , go back in time when all that remained was joy. But was there such a time to go back to? When was it that he could remember being happy? He could not remember now .He wanted it to end and the only way his body knew to shut it out was by shutting down. He lit the cigarette, and took one huge puff of smoke. The black smoke filled his lungs and the bronchi started work, absorbing the nicotine saturated smoke into the bloodstream. It took less than a few seconds for the nicotine to hit the central nervous system. He felt dizzy and then his thoughts cleared. He felt a strange sort of calmness within. Ideas were swirling through the brain . . .
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