It is 6 PM on this Friday afternoon and I have just finished the last cigarette that I will ever smoke in front of the AJC offices here at 72 Marietta Street. I am not quitting my job here at the newspaper, rather I have decided to quit smoking. On this Sunday night, some time before bed, I will have my last cigarette, and when I awake in the morning I will not smoke the morning cigarette, or the one on the way to work, or the one after lunch. I will not smoke another cigarette again.
My friends who have done this tell me of how hard it is going to be, and I imagine I have not even fully realized what I will go through yet, but I am looking for the relief from the burden of smoking. Hell yes I enjoy it. Every cigarette I have ever had has been good – a consistency that I wish other aspects of my life could achieve. However, it is a burden: the trips to the store, the counting of the dollars when the debit card is damaged, the planning my day out in cigarette demarcated spoonfuls.
People tell me that I must find something to take the cigarettes place. G ate carrots, my dad chews gum and exercises. I think I will exercise and write. I will write my way through this thing because writing is what has gotten me through the bad times in the last year. If it can get me through that, it can get me through this. If I can get through all of that, I can succeed at this also. Wish me luck and prepare for the breakdown phone calls.
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