Who's giving the orders here?

Somebody tells you what to do, and your jaw sets before they finish the sentence. Good. Keep that. Right now the urge is borrowing it. Nobody runs your life, it says. Not the people who love you, not a program, not some app on your phone. It's aiming your stubborn streak straight at your own decision.

Count who's giving orders in this minute. Your decision asked once and has waited ever since. The people who love you aren't saying a word. The only voice making demands is the one telling you to smoke. It picks the time. It picks the place. It decided when you left the table and when you slipped out of the party. Then it taught you to call that obedience a choice.

Point the defiance where it belongs. Put on the loudest song you love and sing the chorus. Squeeze your fists on the big line. Let it be a little ridiculous. Rebellion sounds better aimed at the thing that's been bossing you.

God gave you that stubborn streak, and He stands behind it every time it points the right way. This minute, it's pointed straight at the cigarette. Pray it with your jaw set. Give me backbone, and aim it right. Nobody tells you what to do. Especially not a cigarette.