Day 3

Ok, so the time has come, I miss it now. I'm sick of the rage. I'm sick of the withdrawal symptoms that make no sense, given that I'm self medicating to avoid them. I'm sick of people asking me how it's going, or telling me to stay strong and that I can do it. I'm sick of lying about how hard it is, or joking about how nice it will be when I'm done. Mostly I'm sick of wanting to smoke, all the time, whenever I do anything, or have a free minute, or nothing to do with my hands. What do other people do? Regular, non-smoking, living their lives without a fucking care in the world people. What do they do? I have no fucking clue. I guess I'll have to figure it out.

I woke up full of rage this morning, being awoken by a text message before my alarm as I was. I've been very clear to people that they shouldn't contact me before 8 in the morning, and so even a fraction before that pisses me off something rotten. Usually I would just smoke away the red haze, first thing in the morning in the early light, my smoke mixing with the fog in the streets, or more usually in my mind. I would just spark up and puff puff puff away the anger, until I could see clearly again and be a vaguely reasonable man. I couldn't this morning though, all I could do was stick a square of plastic on my arm and wait for the burning sensation to fade and the vague, partially imagined satisfaction to take hold.

I saw a thing on TV once which said that people who are addicted to caffeine become much perkier after their first brew of the morning, but people who aren't addicted don't really get affected at all, the strength of the thing being in the assumption and need for the effect. I always assumed the same was true of cigarettes  so would laugh at myself and others when claims of the stress relieving effect were proclaimed. What I didn't think of though is that even if it's only imaginary and for the already addicted, at least there is a self regulating mechanism for stress that we could all fall back on. Now I have nothing external to relieve stress, and I miss that, even if it is only a psychosomatic easing of my fury that I've lost.

As much as I think the temperament regulating part of cigarettes is all in my head, that is how I've always used them anyway. Before exams I used to chain smoke to relieve my nervousness. I would tell people it was because I was going to be stuck in a room for an hour or two and wouldn't be able to smoke in there, but really it was because I was shaking inside and out. I never really knew how exams were going to go, as I am never really sure about how much I know about anything. The grade I got on almost every test I ever took read the same "You have done surprisingly well considering you seem to have no basic knowledge of the subject". I've never been one for knowing things, only for figuring them out, and knowing that always put me right on edge before being tested on what I actually retain in my head. I guess I'm lucky that I'm good at figuring things out.

I can't figure out why I'm like this though. Why I need to smoke to feel better about my life. Why I have to be a smoker to have a place in the world. I don't want to have that place, I don't want to rely on something so petty and small to define me, but I made the decision early on that this is who I am, and now I don't have any other ideas.

Ok, so the time has come, I miss it now. I'm sick of the rage. I'm sick of the withdrawal symptoms that make no sense, given that I'm self medicating to avoid them. I'm sick of people asking me how it's going, or telling me to stay strong and that I can do it. I'm sick of lying about how hard it is, or joking about how nice it will be when I'm done. Mostly I'm sick of wanting to smoke, all the time, whenever I do anything, or have a free minute, or nothing to do with my hands. What do other people do? Regular, non-smoking, living their lives without a fucking care in the world people. What do they do? I have no fucking clue. I guess I'll have to figure it out.
I woke up full of rage this morning, being awoken by a text message before my alarm as I was. I've been very clear to people that they shouldn't contact me before 8 in the morning, and so even a fraction before that pisses me off something rotten. Usually I would just smoke away the red haze, first thing in the morning in the early light, my smoke mixing with the fog in the streets, or more usually in my mind. I would just spark up and puff puff puff away the anger, until I could see clearly again and be a vaguely reasonable man. I couldn't this morning though, all I could do was stick a square of plastic on my arm and wait for the burning sensation to fade and the vague, partially imagined satisfaction to take hold.

I saw a thing on TV once which said that people who are addicted to caffeine become much perkier after their first brew of the morning, but people who aren't addicted don't really get affected at all, the strength of the thing being in the assumption and need for the effect. I always assumed the same was true of cigarettes  so would laugh at myself and others when claims of the stress relieving effect were proclaimed. What I didn't think of though is that even if it's only imaginary and for the already addicted, at least there is a self regulating mechanism for stress that we could all fall back on. Now I have nothing external to relieve stress, and I miss that, even if it is only a psychosomatic easing of my fury that I've lost.

As much as I think the temperament regulating part of cigarettes is all in my head, that is how I've always used them anyway. Before exams I used to chain smoke to relieve my nervousness. I would tell people it was because I was going to be stuck in a room for an hour or two and wouldn't be able to smoke in there, but really it was because I was shaking inside and out. I never really knew how exams were going to go, as I am never really sure about how much I know about anything. The grade I got on almost every test I ever took read the same "You have done surprisingly well considering you seem to have no basic knowledge of the subject". I've never been one for knowing things, only for figuring them out, and knowing that always put me right on edge before being tested on what I actually retain in my head. I guess I'm lucky that I'm good at figuring things out.

I can't figure out why I'm like this though. Why I need to smoke to feel better about my life. Why I have to be a smoker to have a place in the world. I don't want to have that place, I don't want to rely on something so petty and small to define me, but I made the decision early on that this is who I am, and now I don't have any other ideas.