Twenty years have come and gone since I picked up my first cigarette and smoked it. I like it you know.
the taste the feel, the way it filled my lungs and how it circled upwards twirling into the air once exhaled. It has always visually entranced me…
About three years ago I stopped smoking indoors. Yes, the amount I smoked decreased somewhat but that’s not the fucking point. And yes,
I’m somewhat grumpy
somewhat heaving
somewhat lazy and mourning
and saying good bye to a companion whose been by my side
for two
decades
The fallacy of smoking is that it’s wonderful for a person like me who moves from one extreme to another… the harder it is to do something the more I’ll find a way to continue doing it
braving sub-zero temperatures…
72 hours ago I put out my last cigarette.
And for all you Etsy sellers and yes this is on my mind you demonizing little forum writers… not all smokers, smoke inside and not all smokers touch their artwork with smokey hands. I am/was diligent with washing my hands and keeping myself clean.
And maybe I’m lashing out right now. It’s been so quiet. All I want to do is cry but all that does is make me sad and want to curl up into a little ball and sleep. My focus sucks. My creative energy has all but gone into the fog that’s rolling in from the bay outside. My chest feels heavy and I know it’s only because for once I’m getting adequate amounts of oxygen into my lungs. But you know what I want that vile cigarette.
I bought a house this week! Happy! but here I am crying like a baby about a cigarette. Why today is it bugging me so much!
I quit in 1997 for 13 months after my appendix ruptured and was literally rotting inside me. I had morphine to cope with withdrawal so smoking didn’t really matter when I could pump drugs directly into my blood stream.
I quit in 2003 for 19 months using Zyban. Mmm what to say about that except Zyban mentally can mess with your psyche pretty bad. Be for-warned.
I quit for 2 days in 2006. On the third day the DEA raided my office in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Yeah, so I relapsed and began smoking again. Fuck that I said. I want my crutch and I want it now. Those men have rifles pointed at me and there arresting my friends.
so here we are in 2009.
72 hours into quitting and I’m honestly fine.
Are you reading between those lines?
I read a book called “Allen Carr’s EASY way to quit smoking”.
I think it slightly hypnotized me. Needless to say I’m damn lonely right now.
NOT one of my closest girlfriends is a non-smoker.
THEY ALL SMOKE! 90% of the females aged 25 to 45 where I live, smoke.
And guess what!
The men don’t unless they are aged 45 to 65.
WTF?
I’ll tell you though… physical withdrawal from nicotine is NOTHING! It’s a wee little blip in time. It can’t even kill you.
It’s nothing compared to the wee seizures, bone chilling shaking extremities, skin eruptions, low blood pressure, hallucinations and psychosis from GHB withdrawal that can actually kill you dead.
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