Winston Churchill once said - "If you're going through hell... Keep going"..
Last evening was tough. I found myself in the spare room after having dramatically flung myself out of the living room in a total diva style, I wasn't aware that smoking could give me this much Joan Collins 'chic'... Utterly absurd behaviour. So there I was.
Me.
vs
The demon.
The bugger is right between your eyes, your furrowed brow, your raised heart rate, your inexplicable rage, your inevitable confusion. You know this isn't you, when you're going quits for the 6th time, it's El Diablo there, live from the pit of your stomach, the boy is very angry, he, like any hopeless hungry baby - wants his feed. If you don't give it, there's going to be a showdown...
If you've never been an addict to anything, first off - take a bow and secondly - well done to you - as when you're amidst this illusion you get to see how strange it is, a physical fight, without punches (wow, there's a paradox). Your evil twin is intangible, you cannot physically touch this thing, but it is somehow right on you. It can feel closer than a red faced angry teacher who decides to tear a strip off you in front of class, yet out of reach.
It makes a damned monkey out of you...
For about 17 of my 24 hours yesterday, I was thousand yard staring at nothingness. It makes it seem like your entire existence is akin to some massive other wordly thing ripping you into a thousand tiny pieces and throwing you into the air, baby, you're a firework... Indeed.
I said these actual words to my girlfriend last night:
"I'm a recovering drug addict, aren't I?".
It sounded sad coming from my mouth, more a question, than a statement. Like I've realised what I've become... And then the stranger things happen, I start to get the slightest glimpses of utter joy, highs I've never felt, they are almost teary at this point, but elated teary, for the briefest nano second I experience freefall. Like I can't believe I'm doing this... It's a beautiful whoosh feeling that goes right through me, the tiniest electrical storm. It might be blood?
I'm doing it.
Finishing it.
If I ever needed more incentive, then even after 2 days, my palette has improved to the extent that a £5.99 bottle of Argentinian Merlot tastes like a £5,000 vintage. Tasted amazing, actually. Also, I am experiencing little sensations in my nostrils, getting the tiniest bit more airflow through them, like little pockets opening up, this is very welcome... I had recently taken to an awful nose picking habit in an attempt to get more air into the nostrils, some days leaving scabs around the entrance to the nose.
Oh the glamour...
Sooo sexy isn't it? This smoking lark...
For now,
Pero the Vuk
ps: LOVE this forum, love the idea that genuine addicts have somewhere to spill... Most people don't really get it, so those support messages already are a real thing of beauty. Thanks everyone!
