As a child at the age of five, my mother always told me that if I touched a cigarette, I would die on contact. Well, now I’m fifteen and have officially discovered that I will NOT die on contact. One day after school, me and my friends were hanging out outside. Tony, the cool guy of our little group, decided to bring a pack of cigarettes with him and started passing them around. When I refused, everyone started asking me why and I knew that if I told them my reason, they would laugh at me. So I just said that I didn’t feel like it. Then they started poking fun at me, calling me a wimp and a chicken. Well, my mom also taught me to stand up for myself, so I did, saying that I wasn’t a chicken or a wimp, and that I just didn’t want to. Well, they countered, then prove it. Just take one puff. It’s not going to kill you, they said. My mom never told me what to do in this type of situation, so I, with a little more goading, took the cigarette and brought it to my lips. At this precise moment, a car was turning the corner at a high speed and barreling down the road I was standing next to way past the speed limit. Unaware of the danger, I inhale the smoke from the cigarette. Instantly, I begin to cough uncontrollably. The guys are cheering me on and patting me on the back, which only makes me cough more. In a fetal attempt to get away from them, while still coughing painfully, I back away from the group. Onto the road. Right in front of the speeding car. I have no time to feel pain or cry out before I’m hit. Suddenly, I’m airborne. Then, landing painfully on my upper back, skidding, and then rolling across the road into the ditch I go. Then, nothing.
I guess my mom was only half right. I didn’t die on contact. No, instead, I discovered that I have asthma in the worst possible way. Anyways, just because you don’t die from the first puff of a cigarette, doesn’t mean that it won’t kill you the next time. Or the next time, and so on. The fact is, that every time you smoke, a little part of you dies.
As a child at the age of five, my mother always told me that if I touched a cigarette, I would die on contact. Well, now I’m sixteen and have officially discovered that I will NOT die on contact. Rather, I will die a much more painful death later on.