I am a smoker, and even with my impaired sense of smell, I can assure you that your shit stinks just like mine.
I am a smoker, and the derision of your passive aggressive commentary leaves me hoping second hand smoke really does give you cancer.
I am a smoker. Yes, I know it will likely kill me.
I am a smoker, an addict, a victim of chemical and psychological dependence. Feel sorry for me if you like, but save your condemnation for some other asshole.
Perhaps start in the mirror. Motes and stones and whatnot.
I am a smoker. That means I’m sad enough to pay a sin-tax every day. Go ahead, force me to quit. The government will just take a few dollars more out of your pocket every day.
The asshole that made me a smoker was just a dumb kid. I’m sure you’d like to smack your teenage self upside the head too. But those days are gone, and here we are.
I am a smoker. I try to be neat about it. I try to stay out of your way. I don’t wish anyone to share my burden.
I am a smoker. Cigarettes give me an excuse to walk away from assholes like you. Nicotine and deep breathing and the soothing peace of habit keep me calm.
I am a smoker. I’ll quit if you drive me to it. But think twice about whether you want me to.