It's a funny thing when you decide to stop smoking.
No matter how much you've convinced yourself that you want to stop smoking, the final cigarette is a looming, destructive bastard.
You see, when you're hooked on something as insipid as nicotine, your brain can play tricks on you. How ever much you hate smoking and however strong your resolve is to quit, if you have a "final" smoke it is like breathing in the nectar of the gods.
You savour it, you enjoy it, you reminisce about the times when it was cool and cheap to smoke, all those great times with your mates sat around an ash tray and enjoying yourselves.
It's corrosive and horrible. Plenty of times I've wanted to quit and never actually stopped because that last cigarette was just too damn sweet.
I've just had what I hope is going to be my last smoke and for the first time, I felt complete indifference towards it. The last cigarette didn't feel special, it didn't draw up the good times. No, all that was going through my head was "it's 11pm, windy and wet out here, I'm sick of this shit".
Maybe this is what it is to quit and really mean it. Every other time I've had that yearning to buy some more and it's usually ended up with me doing exactly that. Not this time though, which is very curious indeed.
Hopefully this time I can stick to it and not fall back to what boils down to a very expensive way to slowly kill myself.
Being as overweight as I am AND smoking is a recipe for death before 40 and I don't want that. I also don't want to turn into one of those ex - smokers who condemns everyone who still is smoking. I just want to be healthy and have a bit of change in my pocket to play with.
That's not too much to ask, is it?
