Feeding my addiction, no more.

It's been six weeks and some change. The cigarette lighters have disappeared, the trash bin has no cigarette stubs in them. The ashtrays are gone too. So, is the cough. These days I don't wake up to the cacophony of my nostrils wheezing in unison as I try to breathe. The urge seems everlasting, but I haven't fed it in quite some time. The empty spaces (with all apologies to Roger Waters) seem to last longer even if it's only about sharing them with myself.

I didn't need nicotine patches. Neither did I resort to gum or any assistive product that promises to help one quit. Smoking is a stronger addiction than heroin. But if you make up your mind, it is not hard to fight back. My motivation was a better, healthier life. More stamina. Of course, each time I have those five to seven minutes of 'nothing to do', I feel the urge to light up. The difference is, I don't anymore. But those seven minutes are hard to get by sometimes. So is the cup of coffee or the triple espresso. It is hard to neglect eleven years of addiction. I'm trying. I hope this lasts. It's always easy to succumb...

My father quit when I was four years old. His reason was simple. I'd taken a cigarette from his pack, stuck it in my mouth and said, I'm gonna be like him. That was it. He didn't want me to. Did I let him down? But I did tell him, the day I started. I don't think that was good enough. I know this will last...