Three weeks

It's been three weeks since I've had a cigarette.

And boy, am I pissed.

Maybe I said that wrong, but the thing I've noticed most is the irritability. And the mood swings. And the depression. That's been a big barrel of super happy funtime.

The tightness in my chest and the coughing as my body still tries to rid itself of the poison I'd been feeding it . . . that's a bonus. As is the night-waking, the fatigue and the spotty concentration.

But it's all good. I keep telling myself that. I'm going to be so much better in as little as a week. All I have to do is hold on, ride it out. And FOR GOD'S SAKE, don't have one, don't think for a moment that you can contain it to just one, just when you really need it.

I DON'T NEED IT. I DON'T.

Cripes, I feel like ass.