A Death For Every Sin -part 2-

I don’t hang out with the popular kids at school, but they all like me, I’m defiantly not a jock, but they all like me too, I’m not a gangster or a thug, not a nerd, or very smart, but all those kids like me. I’m not the closet case, or the full blown flamboyant boy, but as you might guess they like me too. I’m not suicidal, and my wardrobe is not all black. I’m not good when it comes to girls, but they still like me. I don’t have great people skills or much charm, yet everyone loves me. A lot of people know me, even if they don’t live in my town or the next towns or even in South Jersey. Everyone knows me because I’m Claudio, because I am their dealer, there for I am their best friend. It wasn’t always this way, and it isn’t anymore, but from the time it was till now, so much has happened and I can’t take any of it back no matter what I do. There nothing that is able to erase the damage and lives lost and stolen by drugs.

No little kid is ever going to take a drug, I know I wasn’t. I would never, I would just say NO. Why would I ever want to do anything so horrible so terrifying and sinful, as take a drug? But as these little people grow so does their curiosity, and as soon as they see that one person, the guy or girl older than them, who is so cool, and who you would do anything for, anything to be accepted by them, to be cool in their eyes, with what else but a freighting, filthy, forbidden, cigarette in between their two fingers, bringing it to their lips, taking little puffs. You’ve seen so many adults, smoke and when you were little saw the groups of older ‘bad’ kids smoking, but you never thought that one person ever would. Not this guy, not him or her they were a good kid, you knew them why were they smoking? But, as you watched them, it didn’t seem so bad, it was kind of cool. I mean it was rebellious, and made you look tough in a way, but it also made you the one little kid’s thought were ‘bad’, but you weren’t bad, you knew you were a good kid. So when they, went to get themselves another cigarette, and held the pack up to you with that offering look on their face, of course you took one. It was like they were just being polite and courteous, not like they were trying to corrupt you and change you into a bad person, it was ok as long as your mom didn’t see right?

No one likes their first cigarette, so don’t let anyone tell you they did. But after the first couple they just get better after that also, no one just jumps on the train and starts smoking one day. I had my first cigarette when I was almost fourteen, but it wasn’t until I was fifteen when in started buying my own packs. I was a ‘social smoker’ only girls use the name though. I would bum cigarettes off of my friends, when we would all hang out. I wasn’t addicted and didn’t have the yellow fingers and all that goes along with smoking, so I was ok. But, sometimes when I would feel lonely, or was bored, I would crave a cigarette, that’s why I started buying my own. As soon I started buying my own, and smoking more, I did become addicted. My daily routine would revolve around the cigarettes, get up shower, breakfast, cigarette, school 3rd period cigarette, lunch cigarette, get home cigarette, about two sometimes three till dinner, two after dinner till I went to bed, and I was worse on weekends. My mom cared at first but, she smoked and wasn’t going to stop so what could she really say?

I still remember though, while I was smoking that first cigarette, choking on the fume, inside me head I promised my self I would never drink, at least not till I was 21 and legal by law, and even then I wouldn’t want to be drunk. Ironically, that same weekend that my young body was introduce to tobacco it was also christened by alcohol. And again I told my self, I would never try weed, never. And I didn’t for a while.

However, I really liked my new life style. Here I was this fourteen year old 7th grader, during the week I would go to school, and be hardly able to contain my self for recess, where I could play tag foot ball with my buddies, and ever weekend I would I would hang out with my neighbor Kyle who was sixteen and a freshman in high school, and would smoke cigarettes and drink with his buddies who soon too became my buddies. I was the youngest kid there except for Bit, who was also my age; he always hung out with his brother older brother Brandon. Bit’s name was really Brian, but he got the nickname Bit quickly because he looked so much like his brother. Bit became my new best friend and we both couldn’t wait till high school, when we would go to school together.

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