I quit smoking two days ago.
I know it’s a sensible thing to do, but believe me, it’s killing me. It’s not really that I crave the nicotine that much. That was yesterday. No, it’s breaking my heart. I love smoking so much, giving it all up is like forsaking a friend who’s been with me for the last ten years. It’s been with me wherever I went. It has given me joy while waiting for the tram. It has aided me in writing papers for university, mainly by giving me something else to do. Hell, I’ve got so many cool ashtrays. What am I going to do with these? And what’s going to happen to the cigarette I usually had just after dinner? What am I going to do instead? Drink a glass of fucking water?
Not smoking is stupid. Unfortunately, smoking is stupid too. But since not smoking is a lot cheaper than smoking, I’ll just have to accept that my smoking days are over. And that is killing me.