“Don’t you know smoking’s bad for you? Don’t you know what smoking’s doing to your lungs? You’re gonna get cancer and die, you idiot?” You could say I’ve heard it all.

When I’m not getting patronized by pseudo-surgeon generals on the effects of smoking, people will try to tell me why I smoke. “To be cool,” “to fit in,” “to finally justify buying that leather jacket” – it’s like they think they know me! They don’t!

I don’t smoke to meet some sort of social aesthetic. I smoke because I want to die, later – not now, but soon. So here’s a big shout out to UNL’s altruistic student body for voting to ban smoking this year. Really trying to save my life, huh?

Well, listen here, I’m not falling for it. You don’t care about my health. You don’t even care about your health. Do you really expect me to believe you’re worried about second-hand smoke existing as an actual problem in the outdoors? Nah, nah, nah, you just don’t want me stinking up a classroom.

But hey, if we’re just gonna start banning things because they smell bad, let’s ban Ralph Lauren and Axe! This isn’t junior high, why is that shit still around? Or hey, let’s just ban people who don’t shower! Yeah, we know who you are. And if I’ve gotta go, we’ve all gotta go!

I’m tired of this and I’m tired of you people. I want to smoke and I want to smoke on campus, not in front of Wendy’s. That’s like a 200-foot walk I don’t want to and can’t make anymore because of my thick, black and cakey lungs. Now, you might see that as a reason for me to stop, but I see it as a sign of progress. I see it as death beginning to creep in, where he’ll soon be swooping me off my feet and taking me far away from here. Until then, I’ll be waiting with bated breath.