A new jacket and a pack of cigarettes that you don't really want.  Finish the pack, don't ever smoke again.  You party and you party and you smile and say things that you normally say.  You are drunk, but nothing is different.  There is vomit, but you recover quickly and smile again.  There is nothing different.  There is a way home in a car, and there is some nice music playing.  You sleep, firmly believing that you'll be gone all day.  Everything falls through.  You try to make new plans, but with who?  Well, he is uninterested (as always,) so you sleep.  You sleep and sleep and finally, by the will of something rather unknown, you get out of the house.  Out on the town, it is dark outside, and you know there is only one way to get anything done.  Finish the pack and never smoke again.

That boy leaves, and now you are ready to go party again.  You make a decision and stand behind it.  You will continue to stand behind it.  You feel as though he will like you better now.  Who knows if it's true.  You move quickly and gracefully, there is never a stumble or a mistake.  You don't know what to do with yourself right now.  Finish the pack and never smoke again.  You try your hardest to blend in, but you stand out like a sore thumb and are afraid that everyone is looking at you.  You don't know what to do with yourself ever.

Finish the pack and never fucking smoke again.  You know better any way.