cigarette
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there was a time when i'd have sold my soul for a cigarette. i'd have sold my soul for a drag off of anyone's cigarette. c'mon, just one little puff, c'mon please!
i used to specialize in quitting smoking. i'd quit smoking every year. sometimes twice. once i think i quit 3 times. each time nicotine would come sneaking around after a few days and whisper in my ear. »ssssara,« nicotine would say, »ssssssara, remember how you love me? remember how good we are together? sssssssara?« and i would remember, and remember how good, and bingo! there i'd be with a cancer stick between my lips again.
and then one day i quit, and i didn't start again. i didn't get grouchy and i didn't get fat from nervously eating chocolates. i just stopped and that was it.