2/27/23 – Snow is about to fall outside my window. The first of the year, hell first of the season really and a day I couldn’t wait for, yet I am filled with an uneasy feeling in my gut bordering on nauseousness. I had a ritual, the first snowfall of every year always brought with it something different in the Northeast. You see, here we’re very busy ALL the time. We’re a go-go-go type of people, but when it snows, the world pulls the lever on the brakes and sends it screeching into paralysis. There is a certain calm you can’t buy, a quiet that blankets and holds the streets like a long yearned for hug from a parent. It is in that moment, where the snow drifts gently earthward acting as if not to intrude, I find no better time to have a cigarette. I said had for a reason…
It’s not the smoke itself, its not the nicotine, it’s not the addiction, it is the moments of peace, each moment you receive when you sit there for a few minutes not worrying about a thing. It’s the moments where time itself stands still, warped in a reality moving only as fast as the embers can climb along the paper and smoke clings to the tiny hairs on your fingers, each tendril slowly taking hold like vines on a tree, finding their way upwards. It’s the peace that it gives you, the tradeoff to trimming time from your already short life. That’s what I’ll miss the most. You see there’s a million articles, thousands of books, but what makes this random blog post on the internet different? I’m writing this as I’m living it. Every thought, every word has been placed during a time of withdrawal, capturing it’s essence in the rawest form.
I won’t miss this “now” though. In fact, I fucking hate it. I could honestly firebomb a small country and not even blink with these withdrawls. The sheer anger of denying my cravings clashing with the anger of even wanting one is a battle that would make Ares himself blush. Somebody’s going to read this and think this is absolutely absurd but you’re never going to know it unless you’ve faced it. Possibly, you’re reading this post far too long after you’ve been hooked by it, well, it’s a shitty thing to feel this part of it, to feel this pain, to feel the want for something you don’t need in your life yet it gives you one of the biggest sensations of bliss you’ve ever felt.
In fact I’m going to tell you this right now, if you’re going to be one of those people who shit on smokers who quit then relapse, then quit then relapse, or never quit again, go ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffuck yourself. …..I mean that with the utmost disrespect possible. Seriously, I’ve watched many of you I know personally abuse alcohol and drugs like it’s your job but smoking? WHOAAAAAAAAAAAA that’s sOoOoOo beneath you. If you’re one of them stop reading right now this isn’t meant for your narrow-minded bullshit. For those of you with a loved one, yourself, or you genuinely want to know what this is like, stick around and open your mind. Let me try and put it in perspective for those “strong” willed minds to comprehend from us peasants who partake in the vapor of nicotine.
Have you ever met a demon? Start smoking, then quit. No I don’t mean having one when you’re drunk, or having one here and there, I mean really get into it like the cool kid in high school who thought meth would be a fun time, then remove it from the fiber of your being. You’re going to meet a hell spawn birthed forth from Satan’s asshole in about five minutes once your decision becomes reality. It’s not apparent at first but they’re there, a slight touch at the base of your brain. Gentle thoughts of smoke as it’s shrouded arms work its way around your shoulders in loving comforting embrace begging you to partake. Grotesque talons designed to render will power from spirit, gently gliding along your scalp reminding you of those satisfying tingles you once yearned for not so long ago. If anyone else could see this demon it would like the unholiest sight they ever laid their eyes upon, but to you, you’re wrapped in the arms of an angel, glowing with blinding light.
Then there comes that moment, that moment you realize your loving savior was doom incarnate. You shrug it off gently at first, years of being smothered in toxic, choking love won’t let you leave that peacefully and you’re trying to separate as gently as possible. Reminders of the quiet, the peace, the odd joy flutter through visions not called upon, but thrust forth into sight. You will steel your mind, and where the touch of talons once gave you happiness, you find them full force upon your walls in thundering fury. You will work tirelessly, day and night against an unrelenting siege and when you wane; “Let them see the real you,” it will whisper, and the wrath of war will consume you.
There are no tactics, no battle plans, no road maps to victory. There are no rules, there is no honor, there is only infliction of pain and want. It is a war in the most horrible place imaginable, a deep void that has claimed countless souls in one way or another since the creation of the cosmos themselves, a war in the mind. Three days, that’s what they say. Three days to fight, three days to survive, and somewhere towards the end of it, the shroud will shrink, the talons will break, the ghostly cold embrace will warm as it loses its grip, and the face you’ve been fighting for what feels like eternity begins to look strikingly similar to yourself.
You fight yourself; you get angry, you do everything you can to resist it, but it’s there, gnawing at the back of your mind like a woodpecker hammering a tree far too early in the morning of a weekend you just wanted to sleep in. You’ll find all the excuses in the world to go back to the darkness, back to the comfort but when it comes time you know that you’re ready and you know it’s time to let it go. You’ll wish for a clean version of it, something to replace that need you still think is a want. There is no substitute.
2/16/23 – I sit here dictating most of the below on the day I actually quit (some 11 days, 12 hours, 47 minutes, and 13 seconds ago but who’s counting), looking at a literal jungle before me. Life forged long before I ever existed, a testament of will, showing me that you can survive what you’re about to go through despite what changes may come, beauty will follow. You have to handle this thing encroaching on your thoughts, not just for yourself, but for others, knowing that it’s going to be the hardest thing you ever do, constantly begging for an alternative in your mind, telling someone that they just won’t understand, making every excuse before the snap of anger even happened. The fact of matter is, you need to let it go as much as it appeases you, as much it feels like you’re leaving a part of you behind, it is not a part you want. It is rather a part you have been tricked into loving, toxic relationships could take a page from this book.
It’s time to let go and you know it. You’ll sit there and you’ll justify to yourself over and over this is only one, only when I drink, only blah blah blah. There is no benefit to this, and it hurts you to finally realize that for the past however many years, those are the times that you needed in your life with that stick, when you could still have them without it, but you were lied to. You were lied to for so long that you didn’t even realize you were being lied to. You are going to hate the next few days, but in the long run, you’re going to find it more beneficial than anything you’ve ever done. Right? RIGHT?!
Your strength will be bolstered from outside forces, but it will truly shine from within. You fill find a will and strength you didn’t know you had. There will be those that tell you it’s easy “just to do it”; you will know they have never experienced it for themselves, not truly. The ones who have, will look upon you with a gaze of sorrow, for they will feel your pain as much as you do. They will burden the load as if it was their own, assistance you will not prompt, or want. They will never tell you it will be easy, but they will promise you, it will be worth it.