Like Heroin

I wake up and think about it. The first thing I do in the morning is get up, put on my coat and scarf, go outside and light one. I was sitting in the chair and relaxed with every inhale. I felt like a heroin addict. As if it put me in another world, another mood perhaps.

I had quit smoking for nearly six years. Then, about two months ago I picked up the wretched habit again. Disappointed in myself, my choice, my weakness. The five years I didn't smoke I remember days when I would daydream about smoking as if it were my happy place. It was. I remember driving with my music loud, my bandana on, my non-driving foot out the window and thinking, 'if I had a cigarette this would be a perfect picture.'

How sad. A cigarette. A cancer stick. That is my daydream of a perfect picture.

Loser! I know. Smoking is harder for me to quit than anything else. It is a nasty, nasty addiction. I can taste the smell in my mouth all day. I can smell it in my car when I get in. I bring a trail of "smell" when I walk into a room after going outside to smoke. Disgusting.

Not to mention, my son. He is the most important reason for me to NOT smoke. I want to live a long healthy life for my son. I don't ever want him to get second hand smoke. I don't want him to grow up thinking mom is a "smoker". If anything, I would quit for him.