12:48 a.m.


Ever wonder what itíd be like to breathe? Probably not. I have.

I blame a cold, I blame allergies, I blame asthma, but the truth is itís the smoking.

Yes, I smoke and I have asthma. Iím stupid.

Iíve come to the realization that after eight years, itís not just a Ďphaseí anymore.

I want to quit. I want to feel better. I need to quit. I want to BREATHE.

Iíve half-heartedly tried before. I made it a week. I never announced it, and I never made it official. I said I was Ďcutting backí. Now that I think about it, I didnít really quit. Iíve lied to myself so much, that I actually believe I quit for a week. In all reality, I cheated. I smoked off of more than one of Jackieís cigarettes. I Ďborrowedí a few from my co-workers. Hmmm. Come to think of it, I didnít quit smoking cigarettes, I just quit buying them.

Anyway, Iím quitting. I have the date set, and I think Iím prepared this time.

Iíve never came right out and said, ďHey, Iím quitting.Ē

Until now.

Iíve announced it to everyone I know. Iíve warned them that I will be in full bitch mode come next week.

Telling everyone has made it official. Now, if I donít quit, Iím a failure. I canít fail. At anything. Ever. Itís part of my personality. I quit before Iím fired, I drop out before I fail, I donít tell people things I try so they wonít know I failed.

If I canít do this, thereís no alternative. I fail.

Iíve already been told I canít, that I wonít even try, that Iíll break in less than a day.

It just makes me more determined to prove them wrong. Iíll be damned if I give someone the opportunity to say, ďI told you soĒ.

I pray I can do this, and Iím not a religious gal. But, Iím sick of feeling like this. Iím sick of stinking. Iím sick of having to drench myself with body spray every 5 minutes just so I can smell like a flower scented ashtray. Iím sick of feeling dirty all the time.

I just want to breathe.

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