It has been four days since I’ve had a cigarette. The rougher parts are passing, hopefully. As expected, I’m still craving them and I’m more irritable than usual. I’m feeling myself becoming more secluded so I can avoid releasing all this aggression onto someone who doesn’t deserve it. Just because I’m not letting the chemical doused tobacco destroy my lungs anymore doesn’t give me the right to be an asshole. I will say this; I forgot how much of a challenge it is not having the crutch of a cigarette when things are difficult to deal with.
I have to stick to the positives. My breathing feels a hell of a lot better. I don’t feel like I have additional weight on my chest and I haven’t been randomly coughing. No longer having the disgusting cigarette smell on my fingers and clothes are a huge bonus.
I really can’t pick this habit back up, again. I say it every few years, but I need to make the effort to stick to it this time around. The statistics are there, the horror stories are there, the death count is there, the personal problems I’ve encountered from smoking were clearly there to sway me from ever picking one up again.