I am not a human ashtray
but I feel like one.
I can taste the ashes in my mouth
I can see them under my skin.
I don’t want to lite myself up anymore.
I want to smell like strawberries
like she said I will.
I want my hair to be so fresh and silky and shiny
I want to be fresh and silky and shiny.
It’s almost time to say goodbye.
I am afraid to suffer,
and I am afraid to suffer.
(I wrote this a week ago in preparation for today. This is my first day of quitting the gross habit of inhaling poisons into my body in the form of smoke. My brain isn't cooperating, it still expects to lite up when we get in the car, at break time etc. But I have to gently remind it like a child that we aren't doing that anymore. I feel grateful and relieved at the same time as feeling like I want to cry and run around in circles. It helps that it is raining today, because it really sucked to go out to smoke in the rain. Those were the times I felt the most pathetic as a smoker, struggling with my umbrella while trying to lite a cigarette, or rolling down my car window letting water in so that I could still get my fix.)