Us
The End Of A Cigarette
Do you remember me?
When you first found me, I was curled into myself at the bottom of a box. No inhale or exhale. No oxygen at all.
Just a dead little thing.
The whole time I was waiting to be pinched up by you.
No one could have told me that though. I just knew. My life wasn't meant to be lived at the bottom of some box. Not for eternity, at least. Not like that.
It was so dark there.
Even though I wasn't meant to feel the cold, I did. It was the kind of cold that haunts you; the type of cold that has no regard for physics. It always finds you, anyway.
Well, until you found me.
For a little while, at least.
Back when you were still you, and I was still me.
Before there was ever an "us" to begin with.
For a while, I stayed there, at the bottom of that box. I watched as you picked everyone else but me. Weeks went by and I studied how your hands changed. At first, whenever your fingers came near, I could feel their glowing warmth, even from a distance. Sometimes the fatty pads of your fingertips would whisper over me before they landed on someone else. Over time, though, it became harder to feel your warmth. Even as you got closer.
Warmth there still was, though.
And so I waited for you.
Until finally, you chose me.
(I must remember that after all, it was me you chose at the end.)
You did not radiate the same heat you once did. The fatty pads of your fingertips had become slick and hardened. Only a breath of glow left.
Still, you handled me with care. You wrapped me with the others in a thin blanket, rolled tightly so we wouldn't spill out. When you were done, I felt your fingers gently press against the sheet. A caress before the kiss.
When you put me up against your lips, I almost fainted then.
You offered more warmth after that. A whole flame to keep me company, even after yours went out.
I don't feel you with me, anymore.
But I know we are still an us.
There is no inhale or exhale. No oxygen at all.
Still, I burn.
Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette by Vincent van Gogh is oil on canvas, estimated to have been painted between 1885-1886 while van Gogh was staying in Antwerp, Belgium. Painted when van Gogh was in poor health, this painting is said to be a memento mori.
"Remember that you have to die."
Van Gogh smoked until his death in 1890.
All of this had me thinking about what it might mean to be the cigarette between the skeleton's mouth. What would it have been like to be the tobacco leaves of van Gogh's final smoke? To be pre-memorialized in oil...
Or to be a painting barely seen until after its artist is gone.
Although van Gogh sold only few paintings during his lifetime, his legacy has reached far beyond that.
In 2020, I had the opportunity to visit the Vincent van Gogh immersive exhibit in Toronto.
Walking through the van Gogh exhibit, surrounded by his creations, I was overcome with awe.
Van Gogh is thought to have had bipolar disorder (among other illnesses.)
I have bipolar 1; until then, never had I seen a reflection of my mental illness and thought, my God, what a beautiful thing.
Not only that but to be in a room surrounded by people who saw these reflections and felt the beauty in them too.
Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette was the piece that stood out to me the most. It reflected the exhaustion, defeat, and ultimately hope I felt at the time.
Something dead (the skull of a skeleton) mixed with something alive (the fire of a burning cigarette.)
The codependency between death and life, explored.
About the Creator
sleepy drafts
a sleepy writer named em :)
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Keep reading
More stories from sleepy drafts and writers in Art and other communities.
Canadian Wildfires Made Me An Edible Girly
Ok, so this is clickbait. I am not, in fact, edible. But I am a Canadian who partakes liberally in Canada's cannabis legalization. And right now, Canada is very much on fire. So much so, the smoke is wrangling New York City too.
By sleepy draftsabout a year ago in Humor
Parannoul – Pioneering the Next Wave of Korean Indie Music
On a rainy August evening in 2022, the cozy confines of Cafe Idaho in Seoul's serene Mangwon-dong neighborhood provide the backdrop for a momentous occasion. Parannoul, alongside a gathering of friends, takes to the stage for a laidback yet celebratory performance. Just the night before, the enigmatic Parannoul had captivated hundreds of fans at Rolling Hall in Hongdae, leaving them yearning for more. Reflecting on the previous night's show, Parannoul admits to feeling disappointed in his performance, a sentiment echoed by many artists after a momentous event. However, tonight's atmosphere is one of jubilation, as Parannoul and his companions, whiskey highballs in hand, revel in the camaraderie of the moment.
By The Intelligence Music3 days ago in Art
Comments (21)
Brilliantly written! Delighted to have found your work on here 🙏❤️
The dying person gives life to the cigarette, which felt that it was dead as it waited inside the box. A skeleton also can't exist without it having been a living person at one point; death begets life and the opposite as well. These are the ironies that you point out in such tight, elegant prose.
I'd never seen this and love how you wove your words around it, great story
Wow! I'm amazed by the poetic rhythm of this piece coupled by the imagery. The reveal was awesome, by the way. Just AWESOME!
I’m sitting here with tears streaming down my face. I am so very moved by this. I too have Bipolar and went twice to the same Van Gogh exhibition, in Brisbane (Australia.) The first time to scope out my capacity to cope. I draw myself to the ‘moment’ with photography and video. I wasn’t well - experiencing a Bipolar mixed episode. I used these ‘capturing the visual techniques’ within the crowd to slow down the dread - ‘here it comes a panic attack.’ Thankfully I did. The second time I went I was truely immersed and wandered around experiencing wonderment. Here was an artist I truely admire come alive. I will never forget it. This is very much worthy of a win in the Challenge. Good luck! How to choose a favourite of Van Gogh? I honestly can’t remember if it was in the exhibition! ‘Cafe terrace at night.’ I like to read his letters brimming with enthusiasm about a painting. About the setting. His choice and of course colour. And with painting I found a letter to his sister and not to Theo. An excerpt below: ‘ I was interrupted precisely by the work that a new painting of the outside of a café in the evening has been giving me these past few days. On the terrace, there are little figures of people drinking. A huge yellow lantern lights the terrace, the façade, the pavement, and even projects light over the cobblestones of the street, which takes on a violet-pink tinge. The gables of the houses on a street that leads away under the blue sky studded with stars are dark blue or violet, with a green tree. Now there’s a painting of night without black. With nothing but beautiful blue, violet and green, and in these surroundings the lighted square is coloured pale sulphur, lemon green. I enormously enjoy painting on the spot at night.’ Pauline 🌸
Oh. My. Glob. This is so brilliant. It’s a piece of art you’ve created here, worthy of being paired with this painting. (I love the painting, BTW. I’m kinda jealous I didn’t choose it first for this challenge, because you nailed this so thoroughly!) I had to read this 3 times. The first time, I swore it was a metaphor for a codependent relationship. Then I realized it was a literal interpretation of the painting, and read it again with that in mind. It was like reading an entirely different piece of literature. I liked both versions. Third time I read it purely for pleasure, taking in every word. I want to highlight my favorite parts: “Sometimes the fatty pads of your fingertips would whisper over me before they landed on someone else. Over time, though, it became harder to feel your warmth. Even as you got closer.” “You offered more warmth after that. A whole flame to keep me company, even after yours went out.” Just gorgeous, heartbreaking writing! I love Van Gogh. I got a chance to see his interactive exhibit when it visited Minneapolis in summer 2021. Is that what you went to? Where all his art was projected on the walls and floor, with music? That was really neat. I wish I could’ve been on mushrooms for it.
This was amazing. I've never felt empathetic towards a cigarette before haha. Just nominated it for top story! Hope you win the challenge.
The painting, the prose, the insights so deep and beyond the surface. Well done Em
Another great one. My admiration exceeds my envy.
That was really good, also nice to hear somethings about Van Gogh that I did not know
Great work Em. Very symbolic and creative. I thought I would subscribe to you but I wasn't. So now I have subscribed.
Ooohhh. Haunting and beautiful!
Em, this simply took my breath away -- and I almost have no words except for "wow" 🥲 Absolutely DIVINE work -- thoughtful, heartfelt, RAW, engaging...perfection. 🥹❤️
Oh Bravo for this, Em! Seriously beautiful stuff. I am rather jealous you got to see his work up close and in person! I've never been a big art fan but always been fascinated with Van Gogh for so many different reasons. Your poem is stunning and the rest of the article is a lovely and personal piece. Felt like we learned a little more about you from it, and that was no bad thing at all! I don't know if you've ever watched/liked Doctor Who, but they did a marvelously sensitive episode with Vincent in it. It tackled mental health and his legacy not being appreciated til he died in quite an emotional way.
A whole flame to keep me company, even after yours went out. I loved this line so much! I'm not familiar with this painting of Van Gogh. I'm so happy you wrote a story based on this and I can see how this painting caught your attention the most! It's really very fascinating!
Stunning work Em! Your poem was Soul-stirring, thought-provoking & so so Beautiful! BRAVO!
I have a background in healthcare, so for me the image brings to mind all the health issues I have seen and still see from nicotine, both from smoking and from vaping. I absolutely understand addiction, so no judgement from me. The skeleton with a lit cigarette says so much.
I first thought of my grandfather. I cigarette hanging from his mouth until cancer ate his lungs up. Love your work and this profound entry. 🥰❤️
This is great. Love the poem you wrote for the painting. Really well done.
My first thought on seeing the painting was: 'Nailed it'. Like all of Van Gogh's work it means so much more though. The detail you incorporate here is stunning Sleepy. Even though I've never smoked, anything, Tobacco has negatively impacted my life enormously and I despise the stuff, yet you built up sympathy in me for that lonely little dart in its package. Well done! P.S. Seeing Van Gogh's work in person changed me profoundly too and I remember tearing up to be up close and personal with "Starry Night" and Don Maclean singing in my head!
Love ❤️❤️