Dear Tobacco,

I feel a little like I've come to a place in my views about you, Tobacco, in that perhaps in my own way I could say I'm enlightened.

I get it now that you have this 'holy smokes it's a frickin' conspiracy theory' sort of power over humanity, and that there's not a lot I can do about it other than make sure you see how I feel. I have this odd awareness of how your presence is there, entrenched into our society; our ethics, our dogma, our laws, and even our wines sometimes have a slight tobacco flavour to them.

It's given me a sense of resolve. Of peace, kind of. I feel a little more like I can respect smokers more for their humanity in the face of addiction, for no doubt there are 1000's of times I've heard it is a hunger more powerful than heroin to need to be able to romance a smoke instead of quitting. It's like that phrase "Love them Anyway" from the Anyway: The Paradoxical Commandments, scribbled into pop-culture by Kent M. Keith - I hate you, Tobacco, but love smokers anyway.

What I still have to recognize is that the power you have over me, in the way of being almost literally in my face every day, is a power I have chosen to internalize and use to push back at you. It's my choice, and my responsibility to not let you get the best of me, and to keep telling you that I'm on to you. I get it now.

And while your subtle reign will for a long time continue to be a reality in the undercurrant of humanity, you don't own me.

Om.