I wrote this list as if it were the beginning of a poem. Then I realized it wasn't.
What I want tonight:
- A pack of cigarettes.
- A heavy glass ashtray.
- My favorite bic.
- A bottle of Baileys.
I've been a pretty good quitter (with the exception of a few drunk nights over break) but after one week of school, I remember why I am never a successful non-smoker. Don't get me wrong, I'm not throwing in the towel, not going back to my little foes...but oh how I miss them. (Yes, Courtney, if you're out there, I stole "little foe" from you.)
It seems that cigarettes and creativity are entwined together and with the urge to write comes the urge to light up. I'm trying to write...but my left hand keeps creeping away from the keyboard, looking for the cigarettes that haven't been there for...almost six weeks!! It's so stupid to sit here lamenting the loss of another vice--the same way I pine over men who are no good for me. I seem to have eradicated those men from my life, but can I do the same with my Camel Menthol Lights?
There is a void.
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