Pizza

This picture was taken right after my first soccer game. My grandpa grandma and me out to eat. It was also the first time in my entire life, that I had tasted pizza. As soon as I took the first bite, of that delicious cheese pizza, I felt like I was floating in the air. My mouth becomes very watery. I heard my grandparents arguing about the food, but I could have cared less. I was only nine years old and I had eaten five slices of a large pizza, the first time I had tried it.
When I went home; I felt sick. I threw up and was in bed for two days, but that didn’t stop me from, thinking about pizza.
After that day, I would go with my grandpa to that same restaurant, every Friday. I tried pepperoni pizza, sausage pizza, mushroom pizza, and even mushroom-pineapple pizza, but none of them tasted as good as the cheese pizza. By the time I was twelve years old, I was five feet tall, and weighted nearly two hundred pounds. Pizza no longer made my mouth watery, or made me sick because I had ate too much. It had become an addiction. It tasted like I was chewing on paper; but I couldn’t stop it, because when I did, I would not be able to go to sleep. I felt empty from the inside.
I was made fun of at school, because of my weight. Still pizza was the most important thing in my life. Then, one Friday before grandpa and I went to get pizza; my mom came back to see me. She said she had lung cancer, and that she wanted to spend the last days of her life with me.
I staid home with her. The first time in three years, I had missed pizza on a Friday. At night I couldn’t go to sleep. I felt depressed, and lonely. I went out into the living room, and saw my mom smoking. Without her noticing I picked up her cigarette and began to smoke. I felt dizzy and began to cough. I felt nauseous. It was a horrible feeling, but it was the only thing that put me to sleep that night. When I woke up in the morning, I had an awful headache. And before I knew it I was smoking a pack of cigarettes each day. I liked it because it was better than eating pizza every Friday, and I began to lose weight.
Soon after my mother died, but still I didn’t stop smoking like I hadn’t stopped eating pizza. Now I’m the one with lung cancer.