ok.

time to get metasophical or something… metaphore philosophical or something. actually, its more of a simile than anything else.

but…

you. me. life. we are all just cigarettes. cause no matter how we taste, or look, or size, or feel, eventually, we’re put out or go out. we run our course. and some of us get put out before we’re technically done. and its sad cause you think, ‘hey… you’re not done yet… you still got some left to be smoked.’ but thats neither here nor there…it just is. (and you enjoy it while its still smoking. and the ashes are just means for a memory).

but the end is all the same. in the end, we’re just butts. there’s no further use. and we’re discarded and put into the dirt or sand or whatnot. extinguished. done.

and we all might last a different length of time. no matter how long the cigarette, even if its smoked to the end, all you have left is the filter. once you hit that theres no more smoking to be had. no more living.

theres a finite end. we just don’t know how long its gonna last. or if we’re gonna get put out before we reach the end.

and i suppose the inevitable question is… who’s smoking us? you could say god, God, Buddha, Jesus, or jsut plain ol Mother Nature, like we’re just a burning leaf and the passing wind is fueling us.

but thats just my random philosophical idea i had when i was driving. and i was wondering… when it will end. but acknowledging it does end. … like a cigarette.