I still remember the first time I experienced the pleasure of the fumes. CJ and I were in our room in the second year when the fragrance wafted in. I think it was the EMW or some other useless paper scheduled for the next day. We were tensed. But as soon as we smelt it, we looked at each other and said "Dude! Full tension relief" or some such shit almost simultaneously. CJ's gone places and flown to new heights since that day. I got to smoke a whole cigarette only once after that...until today. It was on Om beach and Ooty was my tutor. Hated the taste, the acrid smoke, the feel of that stick made of plant extracts, the whole package basically. But what followed made me forget all that. Some dope rolled some green, and I was lost... Got a tight slap for the whole shitty affair. Thought that it would end there. Apparently not. Today, I went and bought me a cigarette and smoked it in my room. Just like that. Don't know why. Maybe I do, and don't want to speak it out loud, fearing that it might turn into reality, knowing fully well that I thought about it only because I fully realize how real it is. I am afraid of what is real. I am afraid to move on. The cigarette still tastes bad though. Some things never change.