10:47 p.m.


I hate that I smoke.

I hate smelling like it.
I hate the way I feel after walking up a tiny flight of stairs.
I hate the way I need a cigarette every fucking minute of the day to make me feel o.k.
I hate the amount of money I spend to kill myself slowly.
I hate the way it makes my breath smell.
I hate the addiction I canít control.
I hate the way I feel when I havenít had nicotine.
I hate when people who make me feel like less of person because I smoke and they donít.
I hate when people think I can just up and quit, and I should.
I hate the way I think about smoking when I try to quit.
I hate the lack of concentration on anything other than smoking.
I hate the headaches and the backaches and the lightheaded feeling I get if I donít smoke.
I hate the hacking and the coughing.
I hate the fact that I have asthma and Iím stupid enough to smoke.
I hate the fact that everyone in the fucking world points out how stupid I am for smoking.
I hate feeling persecuted for something Iím ashamed of anyway.
I hate feeling like this.
I hate that Iíve tried to quit and havenít succeeded.

That is probably the thing I hate the most. Failure.

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