Oh what a day today was. [AUTHOR EDIT] This alone makes me want to smoke that whole entire pack of cigarettes sitting on my coffee table. But I must resist.
I did pretty good today, however. I lost track of how many cigarettes I actually smoked, but I know that it was less then my normal amount. [AUTHOR EDIT] So, that pissed me off and when I get pissed, I smoke...ALOT.
There is nothing that the cigarettes do to make me feel better, except for maybe a teeny tiny jolt of euphroia that lasts only moments. Whenever I feel that pang of anxiety smack dab in the middle of my chest, my first instinct is to puff one down. But after, I feel exactly the same. So why do I continue to kill myself slowly? Maybe it gives my hands something to do when I'm bored or restlesss. Maybe it makes me feel better about myself. Maybe it makes me look cool? I don't know but the buck stops here. I have to be able to deal with my problems, worries, anxiety issues, etc. by myself, without the help of poison. Dear God, please give me the strength to fight this.
Have that meeting tomorrow morning. Oh boy, can you feel the excitement? Me either. I might not be able to stick to my plan to quit, or can I?
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