I swore I would never smoke cigarettes again.
Although a half-pack sits on my desk, staring at me amidst the melodies. Because feeling like I am killing myself (without killing myself) reminds me, as I encounter mourning, that I am alive. And, yet, the tobacco stimulates my mind (and nerves) and helps me...think...why is death so sad? Surely, you will be missed. And I understand it was your time. But maybe it ultimately reminds me of my own mortality. The fear (oh no!) of regrets, of dying alone, or, even worse, living alone or, even worse again, living alone with someone else.
Boy, life is complicated! If I was younger, I would've talked to you about it. We'd laugh and drink coffee and eat donuts until I fell asleep. Anyway, goodnight, for now. I take comfort in my melodies and cigarettes, which I swore I would never smoke again.