I was doing so well.
I went four whole weeks and a couple of days. Granted, I spent every minute of those four weeks as a seething human cesspit of furious anger, ready to explode at any minute, but I didn't smoke. Sure, I alienated my whole family and most of my friends, got complaints at work and had people recoil from my rage filled glare on the sidewalks, but I didn't smoke. I honestly didn't know I had so much anger in me - I never think of myself as particularly cranky. Eccentric & crotchety, yes, in a lovably endearing way somewhat akin to a muppet, but angry? Never. Not me. I don't get mad much. But apparently the cigarettes have been keeping it at bay all this time and I just never noticed. My friend said, "You're a Southern woman. Of course you're full of anger; you just never let it out."
Still, I went around angry and handled it but I just wasn't prepared for every single craving to come back three score and worse about 48 hours ago. I don't know what happened - I honestly thought I had beaten the demon and then kaboom, all I wanted was a smoke and the craving just didn't go away. For 48 fucking hours, at which point I gave up.
Now I'm sitting here trying not to go to BJs for a pack. I want another one so bad. Damn. Damn damn damn damn damn.