I'm quitting smoking, again. This didn't draw out for too long, maybe not even a full week since I resumed lighting up everyday. Oh, and let me clarify, I am talking about cigarettes. The life's too dynamic to get high all the time, especially as it makes me anxious.
I've noticed it makes me a worse person. Something I didn't have the fine tuning to pick up back when I started around the age of 15, it makes me cranky in the morning, the sore lungs and sore throat. Makes me less patient with my partner when he interrupts me in my morning rush to give me a kiss. He doesn't deserve that. I mean, I don't snap at him or anything, but still. I don't like feeling that way.
I remember something similar happening once before, in highschool, when my friend group got into the pills. I tried once, twice. And then I realized that my low mood in the following days made me more selfish... Made me worse. Got this feeling that the devil himself dwells in those colourful tabs, no, fuck that. Didn't touch them since, don't miss 'em, don't miss the people around them. Or the kind of people it carves out, in time.
This one's not so dramatic, for sure, but it's still there, and I'm fascinated that I didn't notice it during my first full-time smoking venture. I guess I didn't really have any friends I could be mean to back then.
In the last days I could definitely see it, how much I hated each waking with the charred up lungs I had tortured the night before, on the basis of a stupid, annoying habit. It took some hell for me to cut it out. And now it's there again, knocking on my door.
Life's been a mess. Seems I had no time to take care of myself properly, rest, replenish in the things I love. That's usually when I get such stupid ideas.
I'm afraid of it, really. I know that fear usually isn't such a productive emotion, but I can't help it. I was so unsatisfied back then, my self-respect slowly crumbling.
I'm happy it makes me feel this way, feel bad physically and mentally. That does actually motivate me to stop.