Why do I smoke cigarettes? Each time I remember the poster boards I’d make to show my mom, the research I’d print off or the times I broke her cigarettes in half. It’s always followed by my second thought, I understand now why she smoked though.

Each cigarette is a quick escape from reality, and a jump into “nature.” When I smoke I’m outside, usually alone. It can be quiet or I can play music. These small moments are opportunities for me to think or to numb, depending on my mood. But tonight I realized I don’t need a cigarette to have these moments. Hell I’ve had these moments hundreds of times when I was in tune to my body. When I’d meditate or sit in the grass and do absolutely nothing in my favorite outdoor spot. So why is it so hard to fall into those moments now?

Cigarettes don’t make me feel good. Some nights I binge smoke, just to stay out a little longer. Those nights my stomach hurts and I reek of that leftover cigarette smell. I can’t afford them. And I know they’re not doing anything positive for my sweet sweet lungs.

Maybe instead of a cigarette I can go for a walk. Maybe instead of self sabotage I can look inward. Maybe I can make my own space to slow the world down and just sit, without the smoke and the shame and the guilt.

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