Hey Hey Guys!
In my defence, it was in reaction to being made to go to the place that made me start smoking in the first place. I began my love affair with the humble roll up when I was made to go to an out-patient mental health clinic, a place I swore I would sooner burn down than ever return to.
Yet there I was today, fag in hand, staring nauseated at the thought of having to go back on my promise to myself, searching every crevice of my will for the strength to walk up those stairs and into that bloody building. I must have stood there for a good few minutes, puffing away slowly, the acrid taste of the tobacco not quite managing to disguise the memory of the clinical burn of health centre-esque cleaning fluid.
I started smoking because I needed a stress reliever that wasn’t the one I was going to the clinic for in the first place. However, in yet another demonstration of poor life choices on my part, I picked up another bad habit; or rather, I picked up a cig.
So forgive me my “sin” for I have smoked. But that will be the last time. I hope. Maybe.
So long as they don’t make me go back to that place again!