When comes to cigarettes, I am akin to a spineless mollusk. Part of the reason is Lizzie doesn't support my cold turkey initiative. As for me, I look for a reason not to quit.
And so the vicious cycle begins.
I know I have to quit. Nevertheless, the quit date is elusive. I keep on stalling because, on the one hand, I love smoking.
Everything is heading south. The weight, the smoking, and the exercise. All in limbo. That doesn't mean I am not fighting. I am... It's just that I am very, very weak.
So I continue to smoke, perhaps a few packs more. I have to whistle while I walk. Things have to happen simultaneously.
It is a very embarrassing situation. To not be able to say no to cigarettes is to welcome emphysema in my life.
Still, this is not a logical move. I love smoking so much. Much more than life itself. The Seroquel doesn't help much.
The answer to the conundrum is for me to fight this enemy head-on.
I will fight it. The challenge is to develop a strong muscle to flex towards the enemy.
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