The room spins. Your hands, shaking, reach for something - anything - to distract you. Texting becomes even more of a habit than it was already - you’d take anything that keeps your hands busy. Smoking supposedly curbs hunger (I’ve heard that it’s got something to do with dulling your taste buds), but for some reason food’s making me nauseous. Locking yourself up in a room with only water, Fisherman’s Friend lozenges, and a bunch of dirty laundry is scarily reminiscent of Trainspotting. But I can’t possibly be that much of an addict, right? Besides, my life is enough of a blockbuster as it is.

I don’t know how much longer I can last.

Classes go by unattended because you can’t bring yourself to step into the sunlight. You find yourself inhaling deeply, lungs begging for just one drag of that sweet, smoky air. Sick of these 4 walls, yet you daren’t go home, considering how the minimart at the poolhouse has a respectable range of smokes on sale. You find yourself making promises to buy friends breakfast/lunch/dinner/dessert/ah-balling/all manner of treats in the event that you cave, just so you know you can’t afford to. Literally.

God, this is harder than I thought it would be.

Wash out the ashtrays, rid your desk of every last speck of ash. For the first time this semester, my room doesn’t reek of smoke the moment you open the door. Quit Smoking websites all tell you to hang tight to the reason why you decided to walk this lonely path, yet it’s hard, when your reason doesn’t even know what she is. Just one stick to get me through the day. Just one stick to help me fall asleep. My head is pounding, and my floor feels like someone’s turned up the bass in his equalizer somewhere in your block. Then you realize - it’s not just your hands that are shaking anymore.

Weak..

You want beer, but you know that anywhere you can get beer, cigarettes abound in all their tempting glory. Every single person you talk to, you whinge and moan to about how badly you want to open that last pack of Lucky Strikes. The bids come in - so far the highest being Crystal Jade porridge and xiao long bao in exchange for the pack. It’s very tempting, yet somewhere inside you, you want to save it for when you cave, just so it’ll be worth it. Word comes in that a carton of Cartiers is being flown in from Shanghai. I guess I’ll be selling that instead of smoking it. ($70 for one carton, in case there are buyers.) “Look at it this way, kissing smokers tastes like licking an ashtray.”

Bullshit.

2 days. They say the first 3 or 4 days are always the hardest. I can’t help but hope that A) they’re right, and B) it’s 3, not 4 - or more, days. I’m sorry I snapped at you - I’d blame it on the (lack of) nicotine coursing through my bloodstream, but I refuse to bow so low. Mark Twain once said, “Quitting smoking is easy. I’ve done it a thousand times.” This is my second time, and once again, it’s for someone other than myself.

This one’s for you.

Now Playing: Fire by Lizz Wright