cigarette. c-i-g-a-r-e-t-t-e. i have some. in my car. cold out, bare feet, probably don’t care, even though the whole piercing as reward/pacifier for a week w/o cigarettes (not without them, they were with me, in my car, on the floor, i just wasn’t smoking them) but i am so fucking hungry. more or less fasting at this point, the smoothie didn’t appeal, nothing does, except things that need chewing and me not ready to be doing that and hungry i am hungry … and oh you know a ciggie’d fix that at least a little bit.
the sprint across the cold yard did drive a point home about my desperate mindset. think if i could just stop this here and say no i will not be reduced to this! that is if you want to think about that, i myself need to find a lighter.
and in that instant take the day counter back to zero but you know i’ll just lay a little spin on it instead – hey one ciggie in eight days. go me.
fucked up part about cigarettes is that they do, indeed, fix whatever’s wrong with me that made me think i needed them, it’s never about oh shit this ain’t cuttin’ it. it’s ahh.
fuck.
“fix whatever’s wrong with me that made me think i needed them”
That’s exactly the aspect that Allen Carr’s books deal with and why I think I’ve got through my first 2 months fag-free!! I’ve never managed to stop for so long before (apart from when I was pregnant and that seems a bit drastic!)