whyny

I quit. I quit, I quit, I quit…

I quit smoking! The one bad, worst habit I have… I finally quit. The first couple of days were like walking around in a huge food-filled kitchen as a starving woman. Suddenly you smell cigarette smoke everywhere, although it could also be caused by my smell senses which are working again.

It’s amazing how you’re attached to such a small gesture like smoking. I notice I’m always thinking: can I smoke here? How long do I have to smoke a cigarette? Do I still have fags? Do I have money to get more fags? Do I smell like smoke? And now, suddenly, I don’t ever have to think about that anymore. It’s weird. Like sometimes I’m really rushing and panicking in my head because in my head I still have to smoke a fag before I do this and that. It actually feels like I have more minutes in my life or something like that.

Oh, my reasons? First of all, I’ve been smoking for 8 years. Now isn’t that just too much when you’re only 22? I can’t even imagine how black my lungs must been by now. So the main motivation is of course for health. I know it might sounds cheesy and corny, but I realized I want to spend more days with M. than I possibly can. I don’t ever want to regret that my life got shortened because of a stupid habit. And then of course, since we picked up jogging, it’s just neccesary to have a maximum lungcapacity.

Do I miss it? Absolutely. Do I need it? NO!

He’s quiet. He doesn’t answer me anymore. He has fallen into silences again.

And then he packed his bags.

I couldn’t let him go. Despite everything, despite everything, everything… I love him. I asked him to come back. And he did, in silence. I tried to show him how I care, how I’m willing to let this work. I’m so ready to do anything. But he won’t let me anymore. Suddenly he changed from begging to careless. He doesn’t want to make me cry anymore, he says he knows he won’t change. He says I was right all along, I was right with everything I said.

My anger washed away, and all there’s left is confusion and sadness. Deep down inside I know he’s right. I know we should break up. This was not meant to be, we’re too different. But when I’m not angry, I’m hurting over this. When I’m home alone, I just can’t take the emptiness. Our time together, the past 8 months, replays in my head, over and over again. All the moments we’re cuddling, all the moments we’re laughing, the moments he kisses me, the moments I kiss him, the moments he tells me he loves me, he needs me. I know it’s typical that the bad moments are blurry, but I feel like we need more time.

Time for what?

I don’t know.

I can’t feel I’m here. I can’t feel what I’m doing. It’s something else besides being numb.

It’s over. It’s definitely over. All his belongings are packed, gone, back to his place. But sometimes he comes over… Every encounter is hollow like a one-night-stand. No kisses, no sweet talk, not even cuddling. And I wonder why we hold on to this. When he’s gone, I feel uncomfortably sad. Why? I know we can’t be together, sometimes I don’t even want to be together. I won’t ever fall for him again, I think more bad things about him than good. Then why do I still love him so much?

I can’t sleep when he’s not around. I can’t seem to pick up my old life. I don’t know what I want anymore. I have exams, I need to study, but how can I concentrate?