I still remember my first cigarette.. Still remember how the smoke filled my lungs.. I cough not use to the taste.. But I don't remember why I started.. Can't remember if it was because everyone did it.. Or I was just finding another reason to kill myself.. Because now six years later.. I still hold a cigarette to my mouth wondering why I started.. Now I don't care if people think I'm cool.. I don't care if I don't fit in.. I press the cigarette to my mouth. Let the smoke enter my lungs.. The taste of nicotine remains on the tip of my lips.. And I thought pops into my mind.. Louder then all the other thoughts.. "Why did you start".. I don't really remember.. I can remember everything bout that day.. Except the reason why I started.. Now I look at a smoke.. Thinking maybe one day it would be the death of me.. But is it why I started.. A quicker death.. Or was there a true reason.. So important that it hurt so much.. That my heart keeps it secret from my mind.. So I wouldn't remember that pain.. I wonder.. Why did I start... x