A rather ravaged looking woman passes me while I'm sitting outside a cafe smoking prior to my job centre appointment.
"Sorry mate, can I have a cigarette?"
I'm about to reach into my bag for my freshly bought pack of JPS and the words I wrote - "die, die!" pop into my head,
I can't do it. Me who's always handing over my tobacco to whoever needs it, can't do it.
"Sorry," I say showing her the empty contents of the pack just devoured.
"S'alright mate!" She staggers off.
Relief. Relief that I'm not subconsciously saying 'die, die! Relief that pretty soon I'll never have to offer anyone a cigarette. Relief that if I'm asked I can say: Sorry, I don't smoke.
Look forward to stopping when you feel the doubt, look forward to it!
(Taken from Notebook - Tuesday 18th January)
The very next day I was this woman. I was outside the sexual health clinic lost, lost without my drug.
There'd been three men smoking who I'd resisted asking but five minutes later saw a woman puffing away outside the newsagent.
"Sorry," she said. "That was my last one!"
So not true but "It's alright, I stopped yesterday ha ha. Thank you, thank you!"