Nicotine Addiction Is a Monster
Addiction to cigarettes is a monster in my mind. Whenever it’s awake it attacks me. That’s all it knows. It will fight and fight. The two ways to defeat it are to give it the smoke it wants or let it rip me apart until it’s too tired to muster anything more than plaintive, feeble jabs. The trick is this thing’s got stamina. It’ll fight for years; until I die. It’s always in there.
I can keep putting it to bed with just one more smoke, “just this time”. But it never ends. It stirs itself awake every time a friend heads for the door. Every time someone lights up in a movie. Every time I get two beers in me. There’s no way to hit back so I’ll just have to lean on the ropes and let it slug away until I’m numb. I’ll just refuse to give it what it’s fighting for, even though it’s kicking my ass anytime I even recognize that it exists. There’s no surrender. This is a rabid animal. A monster. It’s tasted blood and all there is to do is tire it.
I can do it. It’s got stamina but I have heart. I know what’s right and I know I’ve been wrong. So here we go: I’m kicking the habit. No more smoking. No new packs. No bumming. No excuses.