Nicotine Hearts

My father

My father was a great man. He always found the time to talk to me. Which is a lot more than other would do. I don't know how many times I would walk past someone on the street flash a smile and give a jolly hello and was given in a return nothing. They couldn't even take the time to acknowledge me. But my father was the one who acknowledge me. He even listen to my whole spiel about how smoking is bad for you. He even attempted to stop smoking for me, he got the special cigarettes that had no nicotine, and this was all for me. If only he had listened to me sooner. Not to long after he tried to quit. He was diagnosed with stage 4 leukemia and was given about 2 months to live

His death was news that flooded the town, it was on newspapers and television. It was the morning gossip you would here when people would run into each other at the supermarket. People even attempted to quit smoking so they wouldn't end up like him. And that is exactly what they did, attempted. By the next week people had forgotten all about my father and returned to there daily life of about 2 to 3 packs of cigarettes a day. My mother was the one who moved on the quickest. She had assured me that my fathers death was "from cancer and had nothing to do with smoking" but I knew the truth. I don't know if she was lying to me or herself . How could she be so blind to not realize what it does to you, what it does to me.

That summer was the worst of my life , I could handle people not talking to me but now they wouldn't stop talking. "Hi sweaty, are you holding up okay" and my personal favorite " i heard about your fathers death let me know if you need anything". As if my fathers death wasn't enough I had to Be reminded about i with every step I took outside. I hated being ignored but I hated being smothered even more. Good thing it only lasted until it was "old news" then it was back to me being the invisible girl, on the street in my house and in school.