Personal Narrative-Cigarette Analysis

I contemplate the meaning of life as often as most people my age smoke cigarettes. It’s a nasty habit I’ve become accustomed to but it passes the time. I’ve always believed that the real definition of dying is when you are stuck in the same place with the same person day in and day out. I never wanted anything in my life to stay the same. I fed off of the constant changes. Yet I never used to look at her in this way. The one part of my life that for years I have refused to change is my beliefs. Everything else was temporary once something or someone in my life left they were forgotten. I would no longer long for the comfort or warmth they had brought me. Everything in life is temporary people, items; even this world will one day come to an
After that first night I had convinced myself it was coincidence she had picked out my favorite hoodie. She would text me asking if I would like to go out to dinner my answer was always no. I had to admit though I was impressed by her persistence I mean what kind of women could get rejected this much and still keep on trying. I did eventually give in and we went to dinner at one of her favorite restaurants. It actually went fairly well and I decided it couldn’t hurt to just go out with her every now and then. If she got attached I would just break things off. Turns out she wasn’t only one who ended up falling. After a few months passed I grew fond of her and began to miss her when she wasn’t around. I started to question all my beliefs about life and love. Finally I came to what I will refer to as the screw it point. Where I decided so what if this is all temporary I might as well try to love her for as long as I can. I believe that this was a brilliant realization that needed to happen but it happened with the worst person I could’ve possibly
She had always been so kind to me a huge support to our relationship. Yet I feel the urge to delete the voicemail and crawl back into my cocoon of blankets on the floor. When I get the courage to listen to it I feel sick. The words might as well have been made into a hallmark card. Everything she said was a variation of “I hope you get better. “Honestly nothing made me feel worse than that pathetic get well card. It was obvious now she was never coming back. So I did the only logical thing I could think of. I destroy the apartment. In the end there are torn pillows along the stabbed mattress and holes in the wall behind where the dresser used to be. And all I can think to myself is god damn the landlord’s going to think someone got murdered in