You may have heard that quitting smoking is difficult.
It’s like having the flu. You aren’t actually nauseous, but you think you are. You aren’t actually aching, but you think you are. You want to curl up in a ball and pretend that the world is about to end. The worst part, though, is that you know deep down you can make it all stop if you just walk across the street and give the clerk his blood money. Just one cigarette and it’s all over. Just one drag and it all stops. Just. One.
Marching on . . . .