As soon as class was over, we made our way outside. There were some errands to run, so we headed where needed. After our work was done, it was time for home. It was then that I saw Muzzammil—one of my only two friends—in the smoking corner, cigarette in hand. Now that I think of it, he just borrowed one, had some, then returned it. The whole site really knocked me off guard; ambushed me out of nowhere. A friend of mine was dumb enough to borrow someone else's cigarette to have a swig. Maybe he was enticed? Tactfully forced? Or did he take it from the hand of that senior of his own volition?

I need to talk to him.

We both might be in the same boat. I have an energy-drink addiction. I have a bottle of Sting every day, even with the knowledge of it being dangerous. I previously began experiencing pain in my chest area. There were sudden jerks. I was reflexively made to rub the area, until the resonating spasm dulled into oblivion.

It was definitely Sting's doing. And I have these jerks even now.

Cigarettes, however, are another story. Everybody knows that carcinogenic content has been discovered in them. Cigarette's cause cancer and are extremely harmful for the human body. An uncle of mine died of the affliction caused by his chain-smoking. He had hidden his condition, but his doctors confirmed that he had had throat cancer. We all knew how that happened; because of his cigarettes. The man did dedicate his life to social welfare, but also to smoking.

My dad is a chain-smoker, too...

I detest cigarettes. If I inhale even a little of it inadvertently, because someone else is smoking and is in close proximity, I ostentatiously puff out my cheeks, make a scene, walk around, glare at the smoker, and exhale as loudly as possible. My little act has never embarrassed any smoker I've shown it to. That's how bad these cigarette addicts are addicted to the...love of their life! They're like moths to a flame. And you know what happens to the moth in the end.

When I ask my dad why he won't leave smoking, he says that it's because of us—myself and my siblings and my mom. That we're ruining his life, while on the contrary, we're not. We are a happy family. His smoking is just a bad habit. My middle-school science teacher, Asher Daniel—or at least I think that was his name—told us that boys, as they enter the grown-up world, want to be recognized as grown-ups. And they believe that by practicing this act of self-destruction, they will be seen as grown-ups and will also be treated the same. I think this is true.

I'll never really know why people smoke. They must have their reasons. All I think is that they think of it as stylish. They want to be seen smoking. It might inflate their ego. This is for teenage-smokers and men in their twenties, of course. Old timers, I believe, really must have messed up lives to be resorting to the so-called comforts of this heinous practice.

We must know what is right and wrong for us. Not knowing might kill us. Kills us.

Will I be able to rid my friend of this dangerous habit?

I must try!