I WANT A CIGARETTE. NOW. MY LUNGS ARE HANGING OUT HERE. MUST SMOKE. NEED NICOTINE. MIND STRONG. BODY WEAK. MUST…FIGHT…URGE…
Yep, it’s quitting time again. I finally made the decision a few days ago, as a kind of belated New Year’s resolution, and thus far it’s been four days without one. Four long, barren, twitching, agitated days. Four desparate days. I’m ready to commit violent acts of dismemberment on my nearest and dearest without provocation, I feel like I’d gnaw off a limb for a drag, but I’m hanging tough here: I’m going to beat this bloody thing.
I’ve made a few half-hearted attempts in the past, but always relapsed because I never really wanted to quit - despite all the medical horrors, I like smoking. I had it in mind that I’d quit “someday”, but someday never quite came. I turned 25, 30, 35, my son was born, and I still kept on smoking away. Over 15 years of blithely puffing away, troubled only by the occasional good intention.
Until the other day, when I found little case pretending to smoke. I always nip out after dinner for a post-prandial fag, but when I came in my 4 year old son was sitting on the floor, miming smoking with a ballpoint pen. Mea bloody culpa. I can’t tell him not to do what Daddy does, and what the hell kind of example am I setting for a child anyway?
Come to think about it, I’d kinda like to be around when he grows up. I’m ashamed to see him watch me doing this. I’m sick of waking up with a sore throat in the morning, and that little cough that’s starting to creep in. I can’t even remember what things smell like anymore. I want to taste my food. I’m spending 10 bucks every couple of days to slowly poison myself. I must be out of my bloody mind.
Yep, time to quit. Encouragement, sympathy and commiseration welcomed. NOW STOP TYPING SO BLOODY LOUDLY, YOU NOISY BASTARDS!