Sometimes, smoking just doesn't work anymore. The once comforting embrace of the smoke has turned into a haunting reminder of what I've lost. Each drag that used to soothe my restless mind now feels like a betrayal, a cruel joke played by my own hands. I sit there, surrounded by swirling clouds, searching for the solace that seems to have slipped through my fingers. The warmth of the flame no longer ignites the flicker of hope; instead, it casts shadows on my heart. I long for those moments when the world would fade away, but now, all I feel is an aching void, a desperate yearning for something,anything,to fill the emptiness that smoking can no longer touch.
