I find that I can make it through the day okay. I have enough things to occupy my attention. But there are two cigarettes I miss. Painfully. Longingly. I miss the first one of the day, obviously. I don’t know how to describle it to someone who has never smoked, though I’m not sure who is ever going to find this blog, and that’s okay since I’m mainly doing this for me. But that first cigarette of the day is like… okay. Have you ever had incredible sex? The kind where you forget your own name and you’re clinging onto the sheets for dear life and when it’s over and you get up to go pee (you have to do that, you know) you have a hard time walking to the bathroom because your knees have turned into liquid? It’s not like that, but it is like the morning after. Because you know how, the morning after you’ve had incredible sex, you wake up feeling relaxed and sort of glowy all over, and you stretch lazily and then feel even more relaxed and glowy? The first cigarette of the day is like that lazy stretch.

The other cigarette I miss is the last one at night. I didn’t even know this was an issue for me, like I didn’t know I was so attached to having one last smoke before going to bed, but I guess I was, because now when I’m getting ready at night I think “Okay, and then I’ll have a cigarette and go to bed. Oh, nevermind. I guess I’ll just go to bed.” And I feel a little heartbroken.

Somehow, smoking turned all these little things in my day into tiny events. What do you do to replace that?