Give me a cigarette

All I want lately is a cigarette. I'm stressed. I'm in chaos. I'm not in control of my life whatsoever. I want a cigarette. "mild depression already is known to reduce the success of quitting. This study suggests that major depression reduces the success rate even farther." See? Even my brain is conspiring against me!

But I won't have one. I haven't had the urge to buy a pack, yet, or even bum one. I just want one, you know? I want that drag, that exhale, that thing in my hand that kills time and reduces stress. Something, anything. Cigarettes were my go-to; my good friends. I could escape with them. They gave me a good reason to get out of the house.

I bummed that one from Diane a while ago, and all I did was cough after one drag. And I took care not to inhale very deep, either. So one little drag... can't even have that. And that's good. It's good to know that.

So I ordered a dress and a few shirts online. Not pants, cause I can't fit in any, but dresses usually fit. I have my workout clothes on, which doesn't cure the cigarette urge, but maybe I'll run today. Maybe.