Friday, May 9, 2014


He was sweating, it was so cramped in there. He looked around, trying to make sense of where he was, what he was. He soon realized it was pointless, there was nothing but complete darkness. He tried to move, he had to get out of there, the claustrophobia he apparently suffered from was screaming at him, "this is where you panic!". Oh crap.
Mid claustrophobic-panic-attack he was temporarily blinded by a bright light. As his eyes adjusted, he looked around and came to realize where and what he was. The fore mentioned claustrophobia was soon replaced by pure anxiety. He was a cigarette in an opened pack, he was on death row.

One by one, the cigarettes around him got pulled out, lit and slowly burned to death. Their executer seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that they all prayed to be spared, they were innocent.
It was not as if they had asked to be filled with this poisonous substance. They did not intend to kill you, it was just the inevitable consequence of their existence.

Soon, he was the only one left. He was alone in the crushing darkness for hours, days maybe, it got harder and harder to tell. He knew that his number was up, it was just a matter of time.
Finally, the bright light shone down on him and he felt numb. This was it.
As the match was lit and on its way toward him, he couldn't help but wish to be inanimate.

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