I Shouldn't Have, but I Did II
Smoke. Yeah. Not with contrivance—I wasn't thinking I'd just smoke one, I didn't measure and decide to become a smoker again.
I did it because I wanted to. To be bad.
So it happend. It happened, happened, and coiled. I bought cigarettes in odd shops. I stopped going out. Meantime, I've sat, and apart from the shame and embarrassment, I feel and have felt crap: headaches, bodyaches, shit breath, and reclusion. Also, technically, lying—although addicts always lie, it's what we do, so that's the least fussy part o absolve myself of. Like sneezing.
It's been a fortnight in hell.
I'm coming up for air.
3 RIDERS:
O you! poor dear! you must have been raised catholic...you are at least on that feeling radar...
but, alas--you can quit again...
john's my saints name
Dang, I hope you can either smoke and enjoy it or quit again. the problem with quitting quitting for me was that the thrill of oblivious was gone gone gone.
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