Goodbye Butts - I'm Getting Along Fine Without You

Jeff N.

Every so often someone arrives at the support forum at Smoking Cessation who within a short time knows they are done for good with cigarettes. The puzzle pieces click into place and they are on their way.

In his farewell to smoking letter, Jeff details the enslavement nicotine addiction forced him to live with and his refusal to do it any longer. Jeff is on his way.

Congratulations Jeff, and thanks for sharing.

From Jeff:

About a week into my quit I decided to write a "farewell letter" to cigarettes, and thought I'd share it with you all:

Once dear sickarettes,

A part of my mind still does miss you I'll grant, but it isn't my right mind. However, that is not what I intended to write about, as that's very old news. Heck, I used to miss you when you were away even an hour or two too long.

I'd go out of my way to seek you out among your other friends and lovers if I didn't already have you right by my side, safely in between my yellowing fingers. How I thought I enjoyed, and still can reminisce on the luxurious kiss I felt that you brought to my lips.

I loved you whether cheap or rich, rough or smooth, black or mild. You seemed to be a real find when I picked you up, half burnt, off the sidewalk just the other day (or was it a lifetime ago?), brushing you off to inhale your fragrance I loved to draw deep into my lungs.

Partying, studying, driving, or walking...after meals, after sex, when I woke up and right before bed; all those perfect times you were always there for me. In fact, there was hardly a time when I couldn't manage to fit you in somehow. You really became a dear friend to me; that is, to my sick mind.

But that was before we parted a few days ago, when I told you we needed some time apart, and now, with new eyes and a healing heart I'm happy to say that I don't miss all the negative garbage you brought into my life.

Of course, I invited you in, but I'm not going to blame myself for meeting you, falling for you, getting hooked on the short term "benefits" you brought me, or not being able to let you go when I knew good and well your embrace was destroying my life. Those were lies that kept me running back to you when I used to swear you off "for good".

Guilt was the hook with which my ego-mind enticed me, shackled us both together thereby, then solemnly declared us lifelong partners in crime.

Looking back, I see that I didn't love myself enough to even attempt to get rid of you, but how was I to escape your iron-clad grip when I constantly craved you and had already avowed myself your loyal slave? You were the only thing that made me feel safe; that I could keep persisting in this destructive way; that I didn't need anyone else's help; that I had control over my own life.

It was you and I against the entire world.

And now I see what that control brought me. No matter how desperate the situation, I could always seem to find you in some form or another. If I had money, I'd lavishly spend it on you, my ex-grown-up-security-blanket. If I was broke, I'd steal you from others. There were no lengths I wouldn't go to to taste your stench, even if that meant a nasty ashtray, sidewalk, or side of the freeway--I was always searching you out, and as I sought you, I found you.

Now, I am not looking for you, just a big part of me I long ago abandoned. It's true, I'll admit, a diseased part of my mind still thinks back fondly on you, and wishes I could fondle you just one more time--but I know deep inside now that once is too much, just as a thousand were never enough, and one more puff might well be the one that'll put me down six feet in the ground.

I still think I like your bitter, rank fragrance when I smell some poor fool using you blindly, and my nostrils still flare like a dog's over refuse, but that's just my persistent insanity acting up and strange associations which I'll have to deal with as they come, even if it's until I rest in my grave.

I won't be tripped up by your triggers again. I have finally come to terms that I'll always be a sucker for you...just one kiss and we'd be back to the killing floor, you and I, dancing the death dance, quite possibly till it doth us part.

I realize now that you're not the whore I once swore that you were, you've nothing to gain from being discarded or used. I was the one selling myself out to you, emptying my pocketbook to your big business pimps, polluting my lungs, constricting my heart, slowly suffocating myself to keep you just a short reach away.

Well thank God you became too expensive a toy; a blow up doll that no longer brought joy. And in a miraculous moment it hit me straight out of the blue, that I could be much happier without your clasp binding my wrists and burning holes through my chances of ever regaining my wits and breaking free from you.

And now I ask myself...'what's so luxurious anyways about blackening lungs, yellowing teeth and fingers, cold feet and hands, a horrible cough, gray wrinkled skin, and deep fatigue that's quick to set in?

This spring, I'm so grateful to smell the roses again; the fragrance so unlike the toxic one you wear that someday I swear I'll care nothing for. 'Til then, I would like to inform you that I'm getting along quite well without you.

Oh, and by the way, I lied...we won't ever be getting back together.

Signed, no longer yours

Continue Reading