So I quit smoking cigarettes... again. I need to stick to it this time but it's taking a toll on my overall attitude and usual sweetness. (Well maybe that was an exaggeration, I'm not all that sweet.)
I want one so bad. I want more coffee too, but I'd hate to have a repeat of yesterday. I woke up with chest pains. That can't be good.
I made another cup of coffee... we'll see how it goes.
It's not that I even smoke a lot. I never did. Depends on the day too. I could go a whole day without, it's the not having any that gets me. I'm like that with the Gange too. On a normal day I smoke like four cigarettes... FOUR! Dad says if he could have smoked the way I did he never would have quit... that's complimentary to the fact that I have will power right? Probably not, but if I justify it that way it makes me feel like my habit is more of an occasional method of stress release.
I quit for four years but started again a little over a year ago. Wow, I think that was actually the first time I admitted that I started again, habitually. I hate the way it makes me feel in the morning, I hate the hacking cough, mostly I hate listening to my mom telling me I stink. I hate the smell too, don't get me wrong. But, every once in a while when I take that step outside, away from everyone, by myself, I revel in those five little minutes. Stink and all. Could I go outside and just breathe the fresh air. Would I need a lollipop? Maybe at the new house I'll take up gardening or something. I've always wanted to. I can focus on that instead of stinky, expensive cigarettes.
Who am I kidding? Those five wonderful menthol minutes are fabulous. Fuck, I want a cigarette.
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