Perfect Little Dream

You know what I'd really like right about now?

A fucking smoke.

Yes, it's true. I've gone back and forth with the little coffin nails over the years. It has been a unique struggle that I've rarely written about openly here. A bad habit I've personally used as a reward, a punishment, a coping method, a time-killer and as a passive form of suicide. It's a bad obsession I've let linger on for far too long now.

I'm not doing this smartly. I've gone cold turkey without a plan. I'm not replacing the habit with food. (No way in hell do I intend to gain weight because of this.) Thing is, I haven't replaced the habit with anything really. An occasional stick of gum. A stiff drink when the nerves call for it.

Some parts of the day, I can see the big picture and it all makes sense.

Other parts of the day... I'm thinking how sweet it would be to take a long, slow drag of something filthy. And what does any of it really matter, in the end...?

I am a non-smoker. I do not smoke. This will all get easier.