Not So Much Quitting, But Moving On

I quit. Not Nova, not yet, though I should, and will, soon enough, but I mean smoking. Again.

A year ago I quit, for 4 months, until shortly before coming back to America, when Serena was visiting, waiting for the train back to my house from getting royally drunk over at Greg's place. I had the first cigarette there and it was a short path back to regularly smoking from there.

I'm writing this down here so that I will be horribly humiliated should I crack, but I won't. There is no possibility of failure anymore. I can do anything I put my mind to. My life has the possibility of falling completely apart right now, and if I am not able to enact my will, then I am incapable of anything. I quit. I will not smoke again.

Furthermore, I will find another job should the need arise, and I will start or stop anything that I feel necessary in my life to make it what I want.

No longer will this weak will of mine stand in the way of accomplishing that which I dream of. This is it.