I am not a smoker?

Whenever people ask if I'm a smoker I always give a prompt no. But the truth is I am. One or two about every three months and only on a day where I just can't seem to handle anything else. This time it was my family. They ignore me so well, that at times I wonder if I'm already dead, and I am only a mere left over portion of a girl who once was I had just needed one person to acknowledge me. One person, removed from the situation,  who could talk to me as I cried silently on the phone. But as I sat on the cold, front step outside the double doors of our classic 70s, Californian home I realized that when it comes down to it, all we have is ourselves. I was the only person I could always depend on to be there at 10pm on a Friday night to get me through till morning. That was the first night I started to truly love myself, flaws and all.