Early new year's resolution
Six years ago in November, I scribed on my journal that I had decided to smoke cigarette. It was not because I find it fashionable to see myself puffing while talking with drinking buddies and jamming on guitar with them.
Somehow, it came to me that a woman with a cigarette possesses authority over herself in a society that knows no woman of power. I found it liberating to implicitly slam all the male chauvinist pigs that I could destroy my respiratory system as much as they could; That I could be as daring and brave as they label themselves.
But, that's beside the point. I was actually moved by indignation to try smoking. I used to tell my parents that 'smoking kills' and that second-hand smoke affects my sister and I. I hated the futile spending for something that destroys one's system and contributes to global warming. I hated inhaling smoke of cigarette and even the smell of it. And, with all those too much hatred, I started smoking...
Then, I felt the soothing nicotine in my brain. It brought me out of depression... It sucked out the anxiety and senseless fear. I told myself that "I am the master of my body. I can quit this if I want." It was supposed to be a statement to be proven against all my friends who said that once you try it, you can never stop.
Remember, that was six years ago...
Since then, six years had passed that I never failed to list down 'quitting smoke' in my 'new year's resolutions' list. It's been six years also that I had been failing the resolution.
I never regret starting this habit or let's say addiction. But, I regret losing control of myself. I am supposed to prove that I can quit this when I want. Maybe, I did not want to stop in the past six years and was just drawn by social pressures. Or that in six years, my parents have been able to accept that I am one of them.
I had several attempts to quit. I had done it once for four months while jogging at least two kilometers a day. But, then I got tired of too much physical activities. And, my working condition did not allow me to do it regularly. My work had, instead, encouraged me to kiss butts again.
Then, my bedroom voice started bothering me. I could not sing enough to call it a performance. I could not swim enough to call it swimming. I could not run enough to convince myself that I used to run 21 kilometers before. I've been losing my endurance, my breath, my talent...
My dear friend told me last night, I would be losing more than that or almost everything I could have enjoyed if all the effects of this smoking beat me. She is right. I knew it before I started this. And, I told her to make this the first in my list for new year's resolution. She just said, "I don't believe that you believe in that."
I went home last night with the courage to sleep without my regular good night stick. Unfortunately (or fortunately in the opposite sense), I found a pack of red Marlboro above our fridge which my mom just bought from the grocery that afternoon. I knew how much they love me and they pretty much knew what I love.
I don't know. Like right now, I'm actually drinking coffee and about to smoke a stick before having lunch. But, I'm still thinking... Still trying to convince myself that I can still be who I was six years ago.
Somehow, it came to me that a woman with a cigarette possesses authority over herself in a society that knows no woman of power. I found it liberating to implicitly slam all the male chauvinist pigs that I could destroy my respiratory system as much as they could; That I could be as daring and brave as they label themselves.
But, that's beside the point. I was actually moved by indignation to try smoking. I used to tell my parents that 'smoking kills' and that second-hand smoke affects my sister and I. I hated the futile spending for something that destroys one's system and contributes to global warming. I hated inhaling smoke of cigarette and even the smell of it. And, with all those too much hatred, I started smoking...
Then, I felt the soothing nicotine in my brain. It brought me out of depression... It sucked out the anxiety and senseless fear. I told myself that "I am the master of my body. I can quit this if I want." It was supposed to be a statement to be proven against all my friends who said that once you try it, you can never stop.
Remember, that was six years ago...
Since then, six years had passed that I never failed to list down 'quitting smoke' in my 'new year's resolutions' list. It's been six years also that I had been failing the resolution.
I never regret starting this habit or let's say addiction. But, I regret losing control of myself. I am supposed to prove that I can quit this when I want. Maybe, I did not want to stop in the past six years and was just drawn by social pressures. Or that in six years, my parents have been able to accept that I am one of them.
I had several attempts to quit. I had done it once for four months while jogging at least two kilometers a day. But, then I got tired of too much physical activities. And, my working condition did not allow me to do it regularly. My work had, instead, encouraged me to kiss butts again.
Then, my bedroom voice started bothering me. I could not sing enough to call it a performance. I could not swim enough to call it swimming. I could not run enough to convince myself that I used to run 21 kilometers before. I've been losing my endurance, my breath, my talent...
My dear friend told me last night, I would be losing more than that or almost everything I could have enjoyed if all the effects of this smoking beat me. She is right. I knew it before I started this. And, I told her to make this the first in my list for new year's resolution. She just said, "I don't believe that you believe in that."
I went home last night with the courage to sleep without my regular good night stick. Unfortunately (or fortunately in the opposite sense), I found a pack of red Marlboro above our fridge which my mom just bought from the grocery that afternoon. I knew how much they love me and they pretty much knew what I love.
I don't know. Like right now, I'm actually drinking coffee and about to smoke a stick before having lunch. But, I'm still thinking... Still trying to convince myself that I can still be who I was six years ago.
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