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It’s been a little over 7 weeks since I had a cigarette and I want one desperately. It’s a little more desperately than I want a cupcake (or 6) and a little less desperately than wanting to run away from here.

I’m imagining right now that there are people in the world who truly, honest to god-ly, want things like to do yoga, go for a run, eat some broccoli, or meditate for an hour, and I hate them.

I want to do these things that are bad for me, that could eventually kill me. Or, I want things I can’t possibly have because they don’t actually exist in my life right now or because I lack the means.

I don’t want to self-soothe with a bath, or a bowl of kale. I want to smoke a fucking cigarette while driving my car to New Mexico with a box of donuts on the passenger seat and my dog in the back.

That I seem unable to have anything that I want in the way I want it, while needing something to make me feel better so incredibly desperately, is irritating as hell. I just need some fucking relief.