I am quitting.

Come in. Watch your step. Under here. Yes. Excuse the mess, the place is undergoing heavy construction.

Today is my first day nicotine-free in five years. I stopped yesterday morning when I was made aware by my patient and loving wife that my breath was out of the ordinary. The euphemism used was alarming to me even more so than if she had flat out told me that it "stank". I had before experienced odd dry throat spells, followed by odd fumes coming from back there after prolonged vaping sessions. But the tone of voice my wife employed...it got to me.

In absolute embarrassment, I threw the trendy new Flum away. I should tell you that it's not my first time quitting, or stopping momentarily for oral health reasons (which are the first to arise) and here I am again craving it as I switch from writing to video editing and back with a bad case of attention deficit. I’m chewing gum, sipping on sparkling tonic to keep my body busy, but, oh, how I miss nicotine, presently in it in its most embracing and beautiful form, a cigarette.

A good way to go about it is by not buying them. I admit, if I had a squashed pack at the bottom of any backpack in my surmounting closet I would go for it. But I know for a fact there are no spare packs lying around anywhere. It was made sure of when I scrambled through everything I owned where I could find even a fractured ciggie last I tried quitting. I am good at repairing them, by the way, at healing them, rehabilitating them. You know, perhaps that jacket…hold on…Nothing. Forget it!

Another thing that helps is reminding yourself of the benefits. I believe this is common practice in the therapies of quitting, but I have no experience with professionals on this sort of thing. I just know what I know, and I can’t help but think I’d be further embarrassed if I had to seek paid advice for such a thing as this. Come on! I know, I’m not trying to shame anyone that is aided the professional help—they are braver and less sluggish than I—but I have standards for myself that I don’t have for others. So, I refuse. I can, indeed, do this on my own--maybe. I know many that have done it and with fewer struggles than this.

I am mad. Mad. I type with clasped middle and index fingers, craving for the hold. Then follows reminding myself of the more notorious consequence of smoking. That famous Great Evil. Cancer. However, if you are someone like me or have ever met someone like me, you would know that we treat our relationship with the Great Evil with distant acknowledgment. And for that, we are sort of immune to this mode of fear-mongering and for a long time. Practically since we began. The old “It happens to others, but not to me.” sort of thing is a common trait in the immunity.

How unfashionable it has become to smoke, hasn’t it? Amongst the degrading no-smoking signs, teenage vaping, and marijuana’s acceptance, it’s become reproachable, even. It’s a good thing. It helps us all. But at the same time, for someone like me that hasn’t ever really cared to obtain other people’s approval, it kind of provokes me further.

Alright, tuck in your shirt, Geronymous, this is bordering on the immoral. It’s alright to have disregard for one's own health, but it is plainly insulting and nasty to willingly walk on the road toward Cancerlandia when cleaner souls are forced and packed into the bullet train there. Get a grip, man!

Okay, that helped. The moral angle for all of this helps. It hasn’t quite yet done it for the quit-eating-meat thing (I am giving a shot to pescetarianism) but that’s a subject for another day. As you can see the gears in me are operating erratically. My system is asking for that chemical that commandeers the factory within. Dope the workers that keep me going! Their angry, the workers in me. Protesting, they are wondering why they are forced into labor without the usual spurts of dopamine. I hope they don’t start any fires.

They’ve started a fire. They want me to walk over to the nearest store now! There are three convenient places around. (“Very convenient stores” I call them.) I'm reminded of when that American term truly sunk in, when I dragged myself to one searching for the comfort of that rectangular box in my pant pocket. Delivery is also an option--that's even more convenient than convenience--I’ve got all the apps for that. Name one, I have it—address and credit card en queue.

I stepped onto my balcony to breathe air for a moment. I know you are disappointed in me, coming that close to caving in. Of what use will the balcony have now? Will I renew my lease here? I’m overpaying for this great view of Los Angeles for what? To look at without the lovely company of the blue smoke at my fingertips? There are a lot of decisions to be made now with all these changes. Turns out cigarettes were deciding on where I lived.

This is a coup! This is a coup! What now? Oh boy. The factory workers come marching, wondering what’s going on. Wondering why the commander’s chair is empty. While you've been here, I’ve researched the nicotine gum, the patches, the mints. It all sounds very unappetizing, to be honest. If I am quitting, I should go all the way through. Right? Do you agree? Right. But now I sit without a commander-in-chief. Who will lead now?

Now comes the wagering. Realistically, how likely is it that another year of smoking will cause serious harm to my body? Remind yourself of the benefits again!

You must forgive me if I am all over the place. My mind is undergoing heavy maintenance, as you can see. Watch your step! I ask that you forgive me. Perhaps you should drop by another time. I promise to be in better shape. Thank you for dropping by and listening. You were very kind to me, it’d truly hurt me to disappoint you. I promise, until next time, I’ll be good. I’ll behave. Deep down I know it’s worth it.