April 26, 2014
It was a saturday. I remember going next door to “Chuey’s” place. A friend of a friend. Not really a friend at all really.
I showed up and went through the motions of grabbing a beer and throwing myself into one of the wooden chairs to watch whatever fighting game they were playing at the moment. I smoked a cigarette while waiting for the controller to get passed around back to me. Everyone was getting their ass kicked that night.
I know before i went to bed, i wanted to finish every last cigarette in the box, but i ended up passing out with one smoke left.
April 27, 2014
First thing to do was smoke a smoke. First thing was first.
No more smokes. Totally broke. Day off.
My bad budget was a blessing in disguise.
April 29, 2014
Slim “thuggah”. Slim fast. Not so slim.
J-Remy. Janky. The Jank.
They called him these things because he was the jankiest son of a bitch you’ll ever meet. His catch phrase; You’ve been janked.
His janky ass talked me into taking a smoke break that day at work.
I went to the dumpster area, and after a brief moment i lit the cigarette. I took a drag, and felt guilty. A feeling of overwhelming guilt. I hit it twice and i hit it hard.
I came back inside and gave him the rest of his cigarette as proof that I’d hit it at least once.
Sure it was unhealthy to completely quit smoking at once. Cold-Turkey. What with the withdrawal and all the symptoms it brought with it. But if you ask me smoking was the problem.
How could it also be the solution?
I got sick, really sick. Coughing, choking, not eating, and certainly not moving. The day it came, i stayed home to purge.
Nothing felt right, but when does everything actually feel right as a smoker? You’d trade a whole meal for one cigarette.
Any single person could tell you how crazy that is. How the cigarette makes you fake happy. But if you’re looking for real happiness, you won’t find it in smoking. The sad thing is now that I’ve quit, all i want is to go back. I see now how it masked my depression, and its not because i miss it, or want to fit in, but because sometimes i feel like I’d rather have the fake joy that comes with smoking, than the pain that comes with not smoking.
And that is my dilemma.
Much like everything else though, I’ve come to embrace the struggle. Even if it sounds nice, it’s not what i REALLY want. It’s not who i REALLY am.
I have enough problems in this life, i don’t want to make any more. For me or for anyone else.
And so, after over four years of smoking, day in and day out, it was over.
A step in a new direction.
I tend to have a lot of things to say about generally any subject, but for something I’ve lived with so long, i really don’t have much to say about quitting smoking. I know that if i can’t even write more than thirty minutes about it, it’s not worth much to me.
I’m not sure if its hope, or regret, but it’s finally over.
I’m finished.
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