I'm a Joker, I'm a Smoker

I'm a smoker. I hate the truth of that statement. I first started smoking cigarettes when I was 18 years old. When I started, I promised myself I would quit when I was 25, and I did. I quit on my 25th birthday and stayed quit for nine months, despite living with a smoker who made no effort to quit. That time I quit cold turkey. I decided to quit, I made up my mind, and I stuck to it and successfully quit for a good amount of time. I came up with every excuse in the book as to why I picked it back up again, including stress, a weight loss aid, you name it. If there's an excuse in existence for smoking, I used it. If I want to be completely honest with myself, however, I have no idea why I picked it back up again.

I continued smoking until I was 29, at which time my girlfriend and I both decided to quit. We did, successfully, for three and a half years. We both pretty much went cold turkey this time, as well. We had some nicotine patches, but we did not use them according to the instructions on the box. When we first started wearing the patches, I continued smoking, though not as heavily. We wore the patches for two weeks after we had both quit smoking entirely, and then just stopped wearing them. We did not step down to lower dosages of nicotine as suggested in the package instructions.

In October of last year, we both picked it back up again. For the last five months, we've been smoking. Every day since is supposed to be our last day as smokers, so it should come as no surprise to you that the pack in my hand right now is absolutely, definitely, without doubt my last pack, as has been every pack before it. I hate smoking.

Unfortunately, there are things I like about it. I like the effects of the nicotine, mostly. I do like the flavor of a cigarette, it goes great with coffee, it goes great with chocolate. But the bad far outweighs the good. While I like the taste, I hate the smell. It smells up my clothes, my hands, my house, my car. I hate knowing what it's doing to my lungs. I hate waking up in the morning coughing. I hate getting short of breath when I wouldn't normally. I hate knowing how many chemicals I am inhaling that are in no way natural elements in tobacco and were put there by the tobacco companies. I hate spending five bucks a day on the damn things.

So, today, just like every day for the past five months, is my last day as a smoker. I have no plans to buy a pack tomorrow. We have some patches left over from the last time we quit. They are expired, but I'm going to try them anyway. Tomorrow I will no longer be a smoker. Tomorrow, I will no longer be a smoker ...