Cigarettes: my lovely little death sticks. I started smoking at age 14 when I was caught up in the magical world of Manhattan's private school popularity. I idolized these girls who seemed to only care about drugs, alcohol, making out, and apparently cigarettes. One day I was on my way to my lovely therapist's office (yes I am a true New Yorker; I've had a therapist since I was 7) and I ran into two of the girls I idolized. They were each sporting a marlboro light. I had always promised to myself I would never smoke since cigarettes had caused deaths in my family, but my naive young self just wanted to be popular. I asked to try one. I have been smoking ever since.
Now I am caught in an attempt to quite with a desperate need to smoke. I am a slave to the nicotine rush. I've lost myself in my addiction. I am now struggling to stop this horrendous habit and become a healthier happier person. But the need is so strong. I become consumed by it. Is fulfilling my instant need worth the future lung cancer? No. Definitely not. To all of you smokers out there: I understand, I really do, but please love yourself enough to quit. I was so angry at myself for all my mistakes I forget to care about my health and future. I am on birth control, so the risk of blood clots have increased profusely. I have made a vow to myself to quit. I will see that promise through.