Sometime in the next several hours, I'll have hit three weeks without smoking. Not bad for never tried to quite before, I think. There are still moments when I really want one, especially after work, skating and doing the dishes but it's not every time. Most of the time I don't think about it. Of course, it hit me tonight that to make it work I can't allow myself to ever have one again. Ever. Bummer.
There was a time when I enjoyed smoking actually. Back when you could still buy single cigarettes here in Colorado, I would smoke maybe three a day. One in the morning on my walk to work (this was before I had a car), one after work and another sometime in the evening. I'm sure there were times when I would have more than that but it was rare. In those days I would get a buzz off each of those cigarettes (that buzz is what gets you hooked by the way) and I enjoyed that buzz. It's hard to describe just what it was like now.
My guess is that I will miss those death sticks. They were always there for me. Anytime there was a crises (or I had to talk to certain people on the phone (mostly mom)) there was a cigarette. If I was upset, I believed that cigarettes would calm me down, when it fact it was probably just deep breathing. Perhaps I should have said goodbye to them.
And the thing is after writing all of this, I still don't want one. Or at least bad enough to have one.
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