Cigarette - Blog Posts
Cigarette Smoke
I breathe in your words like cigarette smoke
I’ve never smoked ever but this must be what it’s like
It’s stings my throat and singes my tongue with sweet burning flavour
I’ve inhaled so much second-hand smoke from being a third wheel
This has to be what it’s like
I love it
The sweet smokiness
It’s like having a part of you inside me
Closer to my heart
Eating away at my lung tissue
A disease that I welcome with a greedy breath
I love you
I mumble through the smoke
I love you
But it was a lie
life update
hello tumblr again. my mom is finishing off her cig just like how i’m finishing listening to the song The Memory Remains by Metallica. we’re parked in a lot and about to go walk around after she finishes smoking. i can smell it. OOOHHH I WRITE SINS NOT TRAGEDIES CAME ON!!!!‼️‼️‼️‼️ I CHIMED IN WITH A, “HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF CLOSING THE GODDAMN DOOR?”
okay had to pause the song and now we’re walking! will update later
life update
top of the afternoon to you. i got some dr pepper, it’s so good. probably my favorite drink next to water (i don’t drink anything else really). i’m spending the day with my mom and we just got The Habit. i got a burger with lettuce and avocado on it. my mom and i talked for a bit, apparently my step brother is moving to texas after he graduates????? also, he never responded to my happy birthday text (W or L brother?).
mom is currently smoking a cig ok wait she just got into the car. okay. listening to working man by rush, about to go visit my sister and watch her do a tennis thing. pretty lit if i do say myself. i got some jorts on, a black long sleeve tee, black vans and black leg warmers. nobody knows im wearing blue hello kitty socks except for myself. and i guess people who read this… okay anyways!!
we ran out of cigarettes at 3
feeling like nothing ever changes
« smoking kills »
« that’s the point isn’t it? »
✷The Three Riddles of the Sphinx✷
Quelques tracés à l'encre de chine :)
Some drawings with ink 🙂
Commission I did for one of my friends :D
BIKE RIDES AND CIGARETTES
Brad Pitt X Reader
Biking around the city with your husband!!!!!
Just a little drabble I wrote while I find the motivation to finish my other fanfictions :)
The spokes of your bike tires made cute little noises as the cards you had stuck to them flapped in the wind. Your footing on the pedals loose as you allow yourself to fully relax and enjoy the sunrise coming up from the east overhead, creating a nice yellow/blue tone over everything you saw. It was a perfect temperature; the petrichor from the rain that morning had left a dewy feel to everything you touched and made it perfect for a light sweater and ripped jeans. Your hair blew around in soft movements as you pedaled faster down the edges of the Seine River, the cool breeze being picked up from the water made its way to your face as it gently caressed your skin. Today was perfect.
Following suit, your husband of a year and half was behind you, looking out towards the scenery and the hazy light of the sun stretched across the sky. His hair was a perfect mess and his smile was brilliant as he flashed his lovely teeth. Brad loved bike rides almost as much as he loved you; being able to participate in both loves at the same time was the best feeling in the world to him. He was also clad in dark jeans and a light beige cardigan. He looked like he was straight out of a Renaissance painting.
Continuing down the cobblestone paths and around the bridge, you push through the soft wind to try and get to the spot you and Brad often shared your coffees on a park bench. The Eiffel Tower was on full display and there was something about it that looked extra breathtaking today, although you didn't know if it was because you were genuinely very happy or if it was the weather.
"Babe!" You slowly started to stop your bike as you waited for Brad to catch up with you. Wind blowing his sweater around him, he stopped his bike next to yours and took in the sight before him. You were beautiful and he could've sworn that if he had the opportunity to, he would fall in love with you in every country the two of you traveled to. Being a bit of a movie star definitely helped him with travelling.
"What's wrong?" You asked, voice laced with a slight worry.
"Nothing, everything is absolutely perfect." Brad smiled to you and leant in slightly as he delivered that line.
"May I ask why we stopped then?"
"There's a bookstore that you missed in your hurried attempt to escape me." He smiled and went to kiss you softly on your cheek before mounting his bicycle once again and kicking the stand back.
Excitedly, you hop back on your bike and feel for the pedals, pushing the flyaway strands of hair away from your eyes and allowing a smile to adorn your features. Taking one last glance at the edge of the river, you turn towards the direction of your husband and follow him on your bike to the little corner store you happened to completely glance over.
A worn out and faded sign was placed outside the front of the store, reading the name of the shop: "The Delicate Spine- used and renewed books of all sorts." It was a hand-me-down bookstore so there was definitely some treasures to be found on it's shelves. Itching in anticipation of what you might find to add to your book collection, you chain the front of your bike to the stand out front next to Brad's and the two of you walk in.
Wooden shelves scattered in no particular order were all around the entirety of the small place, a staircase leading to the basement which presumably had more of the same visual. The walls were a light yellow with a white trim and the paint was chipped and faded. The bell sounded above your head signalling your entrance to the older man who worked at the front desk and a sudden exhilarating smell of coffee filled your nose. It was a quaint and beauteous little place; you wondered how you could've possibly missed it before.
"All hardcovers are 20% off." The man stated with a smile as he shuffled around grabbing a box of books and walking towards the back of the store. Brad looked to you and grabbed your hand, leading you immediately down the stairs to the more abandoned shelving units in hopes of finding books of odder taste. It was funny how even a place full of items people didn't want anymore had a place within it that was even more abandoned by the public eye. With your free hand, you lightly touched the chipped paint on the walls with the tips of your fingers, gliding your hand along the wall as you made your descent; noticing the way the paint turned into a flowery wallpaper. The air was significantly cooler down here, giving you the notion that you were finally underground in the basement as you took in the plethora of books and scripts in front of you.
"I'll start on the left, you on the right?" Brad asks as he makes his way to the opposite end of the room.
"Sounds perfect to me." You replied and found yourself rummaging through the spines and loose papers. The smell of the basement was so nice, the earthy scent and the ink on paper would be one that you would remember for a long time. You wished you could encapsulate it into your memory for forever, going back to this moment whenever you felt so.
While searching through the faded titles, you come across an old favorite. Pulling out the familiar art deco cover, you notice the giant coffee stain on the front of it. Snickering to yourself, you flipped through the pages of The Great Gatsby by Scott F. Fitzgerald. There were highlights and notes in the margins signifying that whomever owned the book previously certainly got their use out of it. Grinning at the familiar name Jay Gatsby, you remembered your love for his character.
Eventually, you found yourself running your fingers over more and more titles, some of which were familiar and others that went by names you'd never heard of. Amidst your gazing, your fingers brushed over Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. However, it seemed that someone else had a similar idea and your hand grazed Brad's. Meeting his gaze, he flashed that brilliant smile once more and flipped his sunglasses above his head to push his hair back, allowing for his bright blue eyes to be on full display. Everything about him was enthralling.
"Why hello, sir. I do believe that I had my hands on Kafka first." You grinned.
"Hm...but it seems to me that you've already read this one. Therefore, I feel like I deserve the book more," He gently pulled the book off the shelf and held it out to you, "Or a pretty lady could read it to me and I'd call it a truce."
"Something like that could be arranged." You added the book to your small stack in your hands as you walked back up the stairs to pay for them. You insisted on paying for Brad's too, despite the fight he put up against you doing so.
You won, of course.
Placing your books into small paper bags, the shop owner printed out your receipt and handed you the items with a knowing glance. "You're a collector." He said with an eyebrow raise.
"Yes! How did you know?" You asked, now intrigued by what this man had to say.
He smirked. "All of them have outrageous stains and writing on the inside. My wife and I enjoy collecting the outcasts too."
You felt an admiration burning in your chest. It was nice to meet someone who also had an appreciation for things like this.
After you had finished at the desk, Brad helped to unchain the bikes. He had a determined look on his face as he busied himself with the task at hand, allowing for your leisure time to be spent searching for the cigarettes in his jacket you were wearing. You knew he always had a pack on him, yet you couldn't seem to find it anywhere in any of his pockets.
"Looking for this?" Your husband asks you, holding out his half-empty pack which he presumably took out from his back pocket.
"Why, yes actually." You go to reach for one of the cancer sticks, but he pulls it back from you.
"These things'll kill you, you know. You should really quit." He said with a teasing laugh.
"Oh yeah? And you're going to quit anytime soon?" You rebutted, knowing you were already winning this mini battle against him. Brad smoked way too much, for him to tell you to stop was complete ridiculousness.
"Fine, you got me." He pulls out a lighter and lights the end of both your stick and his, both of you deciding to take your drags while sitting outside the bookstore on the curb. Brad's cardigan was pooling below his waist now that he untucked it from his jeans, and you watched as he exhaled the smoke ever so delicately. Brad doing anything was graceful, but nothing compared to the way he smoked. The cylindrical spirals of grey coming from the edges of his mouth reaching up towards the sky and creating pretty patterns.
After a time, he sighed and looked in your direction. You were currently staring across the road, lost in your thoughts. Your face was pressed into a hard gaze as you pondered over whatever was going on in your pretty little mind; completely oblivious to your husband's staring. Brad felt his heart lurch ever so slightly as he watched you finish your cigarette and stomp on it to put out the burning embers.
"Ready to go?" You asked, motioning towards the bikes.
"Yeah."
Brad didn't say it in that moment, but he went over the reasons he married you in his head. The way you looked at him when he supposedly wasn't paying attention was one of them. He was so in love with you, he would buy you all the libraries in the world and had offered to do so. However, the little library full of misshapen and ragged books you had at home was perfect enough for the two of you.
He couldn't wait to continue these bike rides and cigarette stops all over the world.
Evening Rest
Finally drew something for myself. I actually sketched this artwork a year ago, but I was getting tired of drawing the background
When parting…
On the first night,
You will feel that this night will not pass,
and that the night is unusually dark,
Silence has become an unbearable noise,
your bed is a cemetery, your cover is a shroud,
your heart is moaning, your mind is struggling,
and your tears are a flame,
The noises on the street will piss you off, your brother's jokes will piss you off, your mother's insistence will agitate you, the food is tasteless, and the water is salty, you will notice how small your room is, and that these four walls are not enough to accommodate all this mess...I mean the one inside you. You will feel that you are all alone.
My advise
Do not resort to anyone!
On the first night specifically, don’t reach out to anyone. and don’t sleep early, this is where the surrender begins. don‘t say " I'm fine " when you're broken, and stop yourself from looking into old messages, they don’t mean anything. Don't listen to any songs, because that's a trap! And don‘t take any medicine because that kind of pain cannot be numbed. feel and live your pain in silence, alone in a room or by the sea.
Most importantly…by yourself.
- Farid Emara
Let me rest on your chest
Because I'm tired, just like you. let my name, address, who I am and my past years…all drown in our silence. Behind this door, a storm is chasing me, a dark winter is suffocating me, and the feet of the night are crushing me. I have no lover, nor a house to protect me from the flood. The winds of doubt carried me to you. So, shall I rest a little on your chest?
Or should I go back to my sorrows?
Neşe
Gittiğim her yere neşemi hep yanımda taşıdım. Sevincimi en çok çevremdekiler sever, biliyorum çünkü; Hüzünlü sessizlikler ve çökük gözler insanlara kendi küçük acılarını hatırlatır. Son zamanlarda, "neşem" yavaş yavaş kayboluyor. Bir süre konuşmayı kestim, ruhum yorgundu. İnsanların sustuğunda ortadan kaybolduğu söylenir. Keşke bir iki kelime söyleseydim, saçma da olsa, çünkü kendi sessizliğimde boğulmak üzereyim gibi geliyor.
Onu yalnız gördüm,
bir deri bir kemik, gözleri iri, gerçekten yorgun,
"Kimi seviyorsun?" diye sordum.
Kalbini kim yaraladı ve parçaladı?
Geceleri gözlerini kim eritip seni huzursuz etti?
Dedi ki: Onu suçlama.
Kalbimin ona taptığını bilmiyor,
Onu aylarca gizlice sevdim,
Yüreğim hasretten öldü.
"I deliberately read the writings of the miserable, the missing, and those whose hearts are broken, I read their cries to make me cry with them. My alphabet no longer accommodates this huge amount of sadness, so I started looking for someone to share it with me. It is a disaster to search for yourself in the writings of others, a disaster to lose yourself to this extent."
-unknown
