It’s been two days since my last cigarette and man, am I feeling the urge to smoke. The craving is right smack dab in the center of my chest, a feeling I tell myself is just my lungs mending after what I’ve put them through the past few years.
I’ve “quit” before, sometimes for months at a time, but it’s always the innocent cigarette while out with friends that sets me back. One cigarette leads to a pack. “Social smoking” leads to just a few a day while by myself.
If nothing else, this whole smoking thing has taught me what little self-control I have when it comes to an addiction. I’m thankful it’s “just cigarettes,” and not some harder, life-destroying thing, although I suppose cigarettes are as close to a long-term, life-destroying thing as you can get.
Cliche as it is, it’s easy to think “oh whatever, I’ll quit while I’m still young, and they won’t harm me in the long-run.” Unfortunately, however, each pull of smoke into your lungs does add up; Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither is an illness or disease.
Cigarettes are a slow-burning, near-sure death. Now, if I can just get myself to really and fully internalize this and stop smoking them.