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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!
