I told someone about this place the other day, how it worked, why we do what we do here. He won't quit. Was it a waste of time? I overheard a close friend tell someone I was going crazy because of the way I explained my quit. Am I going crazy? Maybe a little. He thinks that because he "switched" from a pack a day to 4 cigars a day he knows how to quit. He is a slave. But his words hit me deeper than I ever thought they would. Maybe it's this depression and not him. Maybe this is making my skin to thin. As I type this, it feels like I am in an empty airplane hanger, talking to myself. I can hear the echoes of my voice, other than that it's silent. The concrete's radiates the cold, the air is still, any moisture in the air is frozen, it stings my lungs. I thought I was alone. But that bitch is sitting over there in the corner. Way on the other side of this empty metal building. She is fucking hawkeyin me. She is not saying a word, just listening, watching, draining me. We both know what she wants. She has been closer to me the past three days than any other time in my quit. I am in pain. She whispers in my ear all night, I can feel her tugging on the inside of my chest all day. I can handle broken bones, cuts and bruises. I have won and lost fights, given and received an ass whooping. I have felt physical pain and taken it like the best of um. This is inside, this is deeper, but I still have control today because I won't give that bitch what she wants. Today, this is why I am quit.
I originally posted this in January 2012, but want it in here for future reflection.
