As i sit on my flat's stairs, i light.
The smell fills my nostrils, as i hold it between my lips
Sucking in air, as i bring my match up and light. The first puff is the golden sip. It fills my body with a strange content and then relaxation, as the nicotine travels through my lungs, into the bloodstream and then finally into my brain.
This strange obsession i have for the mere smell of burning nicotine is probably killing me inside, but it feels alive now. Well maybe not alive, but it is a peculiar feeling, and if i have to pen that down logically, i will describe it as more of an identity that a mere habit.
Thing is we humans have a strange obsession to an identity. We search for our identity our whole lives. We identify ourselves as a mother, father, engineer, nationalist, leftist, rightist, feminist, and a lot of other -ists.
An identity gives us a purpose, something to long for, something to look forward to, something to crave for and most importantly a sense of right and wrong. An identity involving a 'higher purpose', as in identifying with a religion, closes the doors of our brain to any individual reasoning and solidifies a set of rules and ideas that you cannot question. This is where all learning and evolution stops and you henceforth act as a programmed mummy, set to accomplish missions. Identifying is dying.
We are so desperate to find our 'higher purpose' in life that we are in turn desperately want to identify ourselves with a community and end our quest. Again identifying is dying. Maybe i should stop identifying myself with cigarettes then.
As the light reaches near the filter, i am ready to get up and continue first de-identifying myself of my previous programmings, and tread life living moment to moment, questioning moment to moment.
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