I quit smoking. It’s been 24 hours since I’ve had a cigarette.
I am going to stay quit this time as I never want to go through these first 24 hours again. I can not pick up a cigarette and start again, because in a few months I’d want to quit again and go through this pain, then.
This is probably the 10th time I’ve quit. The longest was for most of a summer then I picked them back up. That was stupid. But, so was starting smoking as a young teenager, and continuing to smoke until I was 31. We’re looking at 17 years of being addicting to nicotine, plus 2 years before that of having a cigarette here and there.
Can you imagine what my lungs look like? I know how they feel, fucking awful. The coughing and the shortness of breath will not be missed. The smell on my clothes, my breath, my hair. The ashes on the desk (even if you’re careful, they float around.) The yellow fingers and yellowish teeth. None of it will be missed.
I can do this. I will make it through the first few days, then the rest of my life. I’ll find ways to destress other than lighting up. Even if that means I’m chewing up every pen without reach. I will, I’m done this time.