Damn. That's a big number.
Seems so much closer to Three-Hundred and Sixty-Five than not.
It has been many days since I have written on this page, which I consider in many ways to be a good thing. I have persevered in my journey toward a nicotine/tobacco-free life. Not a pack; not an 'Oh, that was a rough day' pity cig; an occasional puff here and there from friends who know I am never turning back. They see my face as it scrunches with distaste.
Why would I ever willfully choose to inhale and ingest that particularly distasteful substance?
It is awful and makes me choke. And reminds me why I quit smoking to begin with. I get those urges that convince me that I will love it if I take a drag off a friend's Camel, and it is always a disappointing event: pleasantly disappointing.
I thought I didn't need this silly little blog anymore...
...but I'm in a bit of a crisis mode....
It's not a real crisis, of course, and, frankly, it's not even my crisis at all. I have noticed a few of my favorite quitters moving away from their abstinence; allowing the beast to enter again. The door was left cracked and it slithered quietly in, whispering sweet excuses and twisting tempting tales of short affairs; talking of 'one night stands' and then moving all her belonging in the next day. These are people who inspired me with their adventures in quitting, and to see them moving away makes me consider, for a moment, that maybe I should just take a little break...
...and then I remember I hate cigarettes.
You Rock.
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