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it's the controlled inhalation/exhalation i like, i guess. i've cut back, really. i was smoking a pack a day in spain and now it's only one or two cigarettes per day. one after school and one in the bathroom second period, or sometimes if my mom leaves the house. my little brother sits outside with me because he likes the smell. he's playing the piano now. in the summer i remember we used to sit on that little machine thing sort of by the bagel shop. i don't remember where we got the cigarettes, but we somehow got two and sat together in that little nook and smoked awkwardly and talked about stupid summer things. weed, your boyfriend, going back to school. whatever. then i kissed you on the cheek and we pooled our money and bought coffee. as our friendship began to decay you rode your longboard when we went out of your house, skating defiantly in front of me as i lagged behind faithfully, thinking of stupid things to write in my notebook. you burned your poor head with that damn bleach and i swear it did something to you, to us. more than dead hair fell away from us that summer, scalding our fingertips and lining the concrete. anyway, none of this really changes the fact that i don't even remember what your voice sounds like anymore.
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