Smoking is Awesome

Mary Mother of God I’ve never wanted a cigarette so bad in my life. More than I did 2 hours ago, more than this morning, more than last night, more than I did on Saturday.

Welcome to Day 4. Don’t talk to me.

I think about smoking every minute of everyday. This is the first time I’ve gone for this long without cheating at all – no secret puffs off old butts in my car’s ashtray, no bumming from strangers. Nothing for 4 days. OMFG. It’s a record. An excruciating, lame ass little record.

I am a miserable bitch. I am irritable, bloated, nasty, depressed, edgy, pissed off, and full of noxious thoughts about everything that exists in the world. All I want to do is smoke and smoke some more, but since I can’t do that all I want to do is sleep and/or eat because those are those only two things that make it all go away temporarily. I can’t concentrate on work or anything else. I’m super dumb and unfocused right now. And pissed. Really, really pissed.

The nicotine cravings haven’t ceased AT ALL for 4 fucking days. Is it supposed to be like this? Aren’t I supposed to be over the physical craving part by now? How is it possible that anyone ever does this? There’s a reason why I’ve never gone this long before- because it’s not possible to have this feeling for this many days in a row and not be completely psychotic and unable to function in the world.

But here I am fuctioning like I’m supposed to, trying to convince myself that I just LOVE being a non-smoker, when in fact my chest aches and throbs constantly and my mind is always buzz buzz buzzing with vivid recollections of cigarettes in my mouth and I’ m dizzy and lightheaded with longing. Totally serious. I get dizzy, for fuck’s sake. DIZZY.

I don’t drink beer, even though I really want to, because I’m afraid it’ll make the cravings worse. I don’t call my friends because I don’t know how to talk on the phone without smoking. I don’t want to be around people because I’m in such a bad mood and I kinda want to punch everyone in the face. I don’t want to be alone because I’m a little crazy right now and I could very well start smearing feces on my bedroom wall.

Really, give me unrequited love over this shit any day.

I can never quit again. Which means I can never start again. Which makes me want to cry like a little baby for hours and hours.

Curse those stupid girls in the dorm who made me start smoking all those years ago! Curse you all to hell! I hate you the most!

Blech. Life sucks.