Dear Phil,
My name is Jeff, Jeff Martin, and I'm writing this to tell you how much I hate you. I want you to know that you are Satan. I want you to know that I swim in your liquid hell each day and I cannot stop.
I smoke. I smoke about a pack a day. I am a slave to you, Phil. You ass fuck me each day, Phil. You are an ass fucker.
I started smoking 15 years ago. I don't remember why. I remember my father coming into the basement and looking at me and say, "You're smoking, aren't you?" I said that I was. He did not punish me. He did not lecture me, this man who stopped smoking when he was 26 years old and had never so much as touched another hell stick since.
My father said this to me: "There will come a day when you will want to quit, and it will be the hardest thing you ever do."
I hate you, Phil. I hate you because you pump your love joy into my ass and lungs each day, and I hate you because I love the way it feels. I hate you because I love you.
I stopped last Friday night. I had not had a cigarette in three days, but today I wanted some ass loving so I stopped at the store and bought a pack and went home and opened the pack and stood on the porch and smoked a cigarette. It's hot here in Missouri, but your love is hotter. It burns me, but it cradles me, too, Phil, you lovely gimp from the netherworld.
I will try again. I will try and stop smoking again. This much is true. I may win someday. I will wake up and realize I don't want to be fucked in the ass and lungs anymore. I will beat you, Phil.
I will beat Satan.
6 comments:
It's this sort of nonsense that molds your character. And you wonder why you have problems?
older and smarter---
problems with what? smoking? sure do. and if you were ever a smoker, you'd understand the post and understand the severity of the language.
for the record, M wasn't agreeing with you; M just posted at the same time
I totally understand the severity of the language.
I did manage to quit, though. I even took a break from not smoking while living abroad for a few months (really, I just couldn't drink that much and not smoke), but I found quitting again upon returning to the States to be easy-peasy.
There is hope. :)
to isthatlatin,
i admire you so much. i envy anyone who can quit. thing is, i quit for three years, then started when my life started to crumble. yes, there is hope. there is always hope. thanks for the kind words, and your understanding of "severe" language. it takes a lot to see beyond the wicked words.
I quit for two years, twice, and started up again both times because life was not as nice as it could have been. It seemed though, this last time I quit that something clicked that I can't explain. I was really a slave to it--a pack or more a day, and really, really just couldn't quit. Now, for whatever reason, I find I can smoke on occasion (have a few at the bar) and then come home, get the stink out of my clothes and just not think about it for months and months.
Like I said, I can't explain it, but maybe there really is just a point in one's psyche when they want to quit--have been wanting to for years--and it just chemically takes care of itself in the brain. An unconscious mind over matter sort of thing. Whatever the case, tons and tons of luck to you. :)
Jeffie,
Go over and take a look at that other post, the photo of your 9-year-old son and think what it would do to him to see you ravaged by lung cancer...or helping haul around an oxygen tank while you battle emphysema.
Or watch you die slowly of bone cancer as I did my mom, who smoked for decades.
I know, easy for me (a non-smoker) to say. If it were easy to break an addiction, I'd weigh 100 pounds instead of, well, let's just say quite a bit more than that.
I, too, realize that I am putting myself in an earlier grave than necessary due to my eating habits.
But I try to think of my grandsons without me and that helps sometimes to curb my appetite!
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