For clarification: I gave up smoking three years ago and have been using a vapor and patches to get my nicotine fix, I'm just trying to process what's going through my father's head (a cancer survivor) to pick up the habit again.
The funny part is I'm the one who tells him what it does chemically to the body, even showing him pictures, and pointing out to him the hard time he's having doing simple things now that weren't a problem before.
Yes, even has a right to do what they want in life. I'm just worried for my Pop pop, sadly I'm his least favorite person (seriously the dog ranks higher than me, the dog that poops in my room). Sorry, sorry, middle-child syndrome surfacing.
Enjoy this story of me trying to see it from his point of view. (and why yes, to those clever few that figure it out I did use the title of a tv episode/song including the subject matter of that episode)
*picture is originally from http://photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=6676376
03/26/2014 (Wednesday)- Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
I pulled the last cigarette from my pack of lucky strike, my wish stick. I gave up smoking yesterday, but, there’s something about smoking that calms me. You could tell me that’s what it does to you chemically, how your body reacts to it.
I’d like to think it’s more human: something spiritual, or some pseudo-philosophical bullshit.
A false sense of control in the belief that I could stop this, and slow my own demise for just a few minutes.
That I have power over death.
That it isn’t the end.
But who am I kidding?
I’m still smoking.
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