3 days ago Brad and I looked at each other over the smoldering bits of our last cigarette. I would like to say that our eyes smoldered too, but I can't. Instead all that filled the air was the sense of apprehension. The great question 'are we doing the right thing?' hung above our heads. Neither of us gave voice to it, so the question evaporated with the smoke.
3 days later and it, to put it bluntly, sucks.
I haven't been smoking as long as Brad, and I don't (still can't bring myself to use the past tense yet) smoke as much as he did, so I thought it would be easier on me. I forgot that feelings aren't something that can be compared.
There is hope though. A small shred of light breaking through the horizon, struggling to shine on my face. That hope is that after today the physical symptoms stop. After today it is all in my head, and I have vastly more scary things in my brain than some piddly little addiction.
So bring in on withdrawal. Bring it right the frick on.
I believe it's ten days. Ten days and the physical addiction is over. Then it's all psychological. Good luck. :)
ReplyDeleteAlso, found you.