It’s been like 34 hours since I had a cigarette.
“What?” you say, “that’s not a risk. Smoking is a risk. Not smoking is just a good decision.”
You don’t quite grasp what’s going on here, then. That my veins might writhe up out of my body in protest. That I might relapse on booze, on pills , on weed, on coke, I never did coke, but why not, you know, if I can’t have a fucking cigarette.
That, oh fuck, I might feel icky and bad in the brainspace.
It’s been 34 hours and I had to do math to learn how long it’s been. I chose the best time to quit. We owe 2200 for the repair of the car we still owe 7k on, we owe 1k to the people insurance was supposed to cover cleaning out the basement, we will probably owe the floor guys money too, who knows.
The ONLY thing I have good happy proud of is:
I haven’t had a cigarette in like 34 hours.
It’s already better to breathe? Which is in this moment kind of gnarly since my cat just took a giant dump, and my throat and nose are taking vengeance on me for filling them with smoke and vapor for so long, and I do indeed sometimes feel quite icky, but! Somehow, despite all that, breathing is like an A++ action.
I would say I recommend you try it, but. It’s been 34 hours. I say let’s give it a little longer, wait for the other shoe to drop. If this is still going well in another 24 hours, let’s say, I shall hesitantly endorse quitting smoking. Right now tho, pls, continue.
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