Trying to be in a relationship with him is like trying to smoke a pack of cigarettes. He's addicting and his smell intrigues me. The first time with him isn't so great, but something about him makes you want to go back. Each cigarette represents how many chances I've given him. At first there's a spark. Then when you get to the end, your dead. Your happiness and joy that belonged to you is gone. You're pain is so deep that you can feel your heart aching. Your chest feels empty and hollow because you miss him. The more time you spend with him, the harder it will be to let go. Good thing you ran out of cigarettes because, shit, was he bad for you.