Smoke, Choke, Croak!

     I came out of a friend's place and decided to have "a cigarette moment" before I caught the street-car.  The result of the two puffs I took was I realized my lungs were hurting and my mouth tasted vile.  I stubbed it out and started walking away.  A young man came up to me, with wallet open, and asked me to sell him a cigarette.
     I started to take out just one to give him when I suddenly handed him the pack and said, "Take the pack, I just quit."
     He said, "You might just have converted me!"
     My response, "It's every man for himself!" and I walked away.

Realizations arising from this:
1) I don't have to fit in to society, (at 14, I was told & certainly believed, I had to smoke to be welcome),
2) It hurts my lungs, (I was allergic & it made me hurl, yet I persevered & became an addict),
3) I don't like the stink, (I lost my sense of smell altogether),
4) I don't like the taste, (it disguised the flavor of everything I ate),
5) I don't need a crutch anymore, (I can walk away like Lazarus, free at last).