Curiosity – The First Drag That Changed Everything

They say the most dangerous things in life don’t always come with a warning. Sometimes, they arrive disguised as harmless curiosity.

I was in the 11th grade when I smoked my first cigarette. Nobody offered it to me. Nobody pressured me. It wasn’t rebellion or peer influence. It was just… curiosity.

A relative of mine smoked. I had watched him light cigarette after cigarette, the smoke curling lazily into the air as he sat deep in thought. He made it look effortless, almost poetic. One night, during a sleepover at his place, the opportunity presented itself.

He had a few drinks and then dozed off, leaving his half-empty pack on the table. I stared at it for a long time, my mind racing.

What does it feel like?

I could have let it go. I could have walked away. But something in me wanted to know. So, I grabbed the pack, walked into the bathroom, locked the door, and took one out.

I had no idea how to smoke. I placed it between my lips and lit it, careful not to inhale too deeply. The smoke sat heavy in my mouth, tasteless and empty.

This isn’t doing anything.

That’s when I realized I was doing it wrong. So, I took a deep breath, letting the smoke fill my lungs.

The burn was immediate. My throat closed up, my chest felt like it was on fire, and I broke into a fit of uncontrollable coughs. I doubled over, hands on my knees, gasping for air.

But I didn’t stop.

I tried again. And again.

By the fourth drag, the coughing had settled. And that’s when it hit me—the lightheadedness, the faint dizziness, the strange sense of calm. It wasn’t a high, but it was something.

I flushed the cigarette and went to bed, my head buzzing with the experience. I wasn’t hooked. Not yet. But a door had been opened.

Curiosity Never Stops at One

For the next few months, I barely thought about smoking. It was just a thing I had tried once. But every now and then, I’d remember that feeling—the calm, the lightness—and wonder if I could experience it again.

So, I did.

At first, it was once every two months. Then once a month. Then once a week.

By the time I reached college, smoking had become a habit. It wasn’t just about curiosity anymore—it was about belonging. It made me feel like I was part of something bigger. A silent bond among smokers, a shared ritual that gave me an unspoken sense of identity.

I told myself it wasn’t a problem. After all, I could quit anytime.

Until one day, I realized I couldn’t.

I was smoking 30 cigarettes a day. And I didn’t even know when it happened.

Curiosity Can Be Dangerous
When I look back, I ask myself: Why did I even start?

Was it because my father smoked when he was stressed, and I subconsciously associated it with deep thinking? Was it because I thought it looked cool? Or was it simply because I wanted to know what it felt like?

The truth is, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that one small decision, made out of curiosity, spiraled into an addiction I never saw coming.

Nobody plans to get addicted. Nobody wakes up one day and decides to depend on something to function. It always starts small, innocent, harmless. Until one day, it isn’t.

Curiosity is a powerful force. It pushes us to explore, to learn, to grow. But sometimes, it also leads us down paths we never intended to take.

And before we realize it, we’ve walked too far to turn back easily.

I wish I had never asked, “What does it feel like?”

Because sometimes, the answer isn’t worth knowing.
Curiosity can be a beautiful thing, but it can also be dangerous. It can push us toward discovery, or it can lead us into traps we never saw coming. I didn’t start smoking because someone forced me—I started because I wanted to know what it felt like.

What I didn’t realize was that one moment of curiosity could lead to years of struggle. But the same curiosity that led me down that path also helped me find my way back.
And so, the journey continued.
the onward quest.