I'm the best there is

There was a time in my life when I was a smoker. Yes, I know. How disgusting. I remember who gave me my first cigarette. I won't call out her name, per chance she reads my nonsense from time to time.



We were be-bopping around in her car, on the way to a neighboring town. I can't really remember, but maybe I was 17 or so. I was always older than my friends/grade/parents. They were menthols and I couldn't figure out how to do it. I probably smoked a whole pack without knowing what the hell I was doing. (Gosh this makes me sick. I almost dread having children!)

Fast forward through field parties and frat parties and long drives across the state. I was always cognizant of my surroundings when I smoked. It was never a necessity to smoke when I came home for weekends during college. I didn't want to upset my parents and I didn't really need it bad enough to sneak around in the back, back yard.

I'll get to the point. I quit, cold turkey a few months ago - maybe three. I know this may not seem astounding, but I am immensely proud of myself. It's gotten to the point where I find myself basking in my own self-righteousness.

Can you believe how freaking amazing I am? I mean honestly. I quit because I wanted to. People are actually addicted to these things?! What a load of crap! What a cop out! These people have absolutely no self control. Look at me. The wonderful, self-manipulating, drug-free, anti-substance magician. Poof - I'm done with that part of my life!

When I walk up to my office in the mornings, I see people (who have probably arrived at the office a mere 15 or 20 minutes before me - sad, they just can't wait) standing around outside the revolving doors, nicotine in hand. I can feel it. I can feel the snarl. There is an actual look of utter disgust on my face and I'm looking right at these people. I don't care that they can see me.

When I walk down the sidewalk and I am waiting to cross the street, I might be standing behind or next to a smoker. The ever-consistent wind might blow a plume of smoke through my nostrils.

I am astonished. I cough loudly and I dramatically fan my face. I want to scream "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE"! "YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME WHILE YOU'RE AT IT"! I have never smoked a cigarette a day in my life. I loathe these people for their inability to resist. I am the only person in the world who has defeated nicotine. Damn it feels good.

But you know what? I don't care that I feel this way. I'm glad of it. Because if this is the mentality that a person must assume in order to detach themselves from this drug, then so be it. I am indefinitely excused for being a hypocritical bitch. And so are you.