smoking from the ashtray

as the title of this blog and post suggests – i am a smoker.
i never thought i would be. my older sister smoked in her teens and early twenties and i’m sure she wouldn’t be surprised at the fact that during this time i would sneak into her room and pinch the odd richmond menthol or three.

little did i know these little sticks would become a massive part of my life. a crutch. a confidant. a friend.
friends that i would collect in the ashtray of my worries until – after my bank account had been obliterated, after the coppers in the deepest depths of my purse/pockets had been scraped together and exhausted – i would pick amongst and smoke the last pitiful drags from.
smoking from the ashtray is something i do more often than i’d care to admit. after stopping and starting blogs several times over the last ten years or so – this is where i am. smoking from the ashtray.. going back and picking over things in my life..desperate to get the last drags from situations and usually burning my fingers in the process.

this is where you’ll find me.