So it's about midway through the second day and I still haven't had one, but the temptation is now at fever pitch. I swear, when I was smoking, it seemed like I was the only one. I felt ostracized. Now it's like everybody in the whole world has decided to take up the habit. Every building I pass, they're gathered at the door. Walking down in the sidewalk, the smell hits my nostrils, letting me know they've been there too, leaving only their faint trails. I want to find them, and say, "Hey! I was once one of you! Let me back in!" (I'm realizing now that I'm rambling, but it's OK I'm quitting smoking. This has been my justification for every mistake of the past day and a half.) For whatever reason, Im thinking A LOT about when I first started smoking, those first few drags on a Camel. It seemed so fun and carefree in those days. I never thought about addiction. I never thought about the hundreds and hundreds of dollars I'd shell out for this deadly habit. Why can't smoking be fun again? But it can't. I know it. It's killing me. So here I am. The second day.
