One more before I go…
I want this to be my last cigarette. I started smoking about four years ago. It was casual at first, no more then three a day and at times weeks between them. I think part of me really started smoking because it made me feel cool, I say that ironically so much it feels weird to be serious about it.
It gave me something to do when I had nothing to do, it helped me to slow down and stop worrying about things in the distant future. I think it was a type of coping mechanism for every day anxiety. I’d go to the club, and it would give me an excuse to leave the crowd and calm down. I’d smoke between breaks during class because that’s what the “cool Asian girl” in my writing class did. I’d smoke to fill the pause between conversations and I’d smoke to keep my free hand busy while I wrote. I like smoking cigarettes, they help my mental health so much in the moment and wreak havoc on me in the long run.
There’s a lot of things I won’t miss about smoking. The funny smell all my clothes have, the putrid yellow it would turn my tongue instantly and the same yellow that would rot away at my teeth and nails slowly. I won’t miss throwing away ten dollars every day, and I won’t miss always finding discarded butts everywhere. I won’t miss the hamster cage smell it gave my car or constant paranoia if I went more then a few hours between them.
This is going to be my year and while I don’t expect it’ll be easy or without relapse, I am going to come out of it a better man.