Day 12 smober. The addict constantly whining; looking for excuses. A lot of "What the hell"s and "Oh For God's Sake"s. A WHOLE lot of "Just one"s. Annoying. But now (and I don't know why I didn't do this before), I imagine giving in. "OK; now you've smoked a cigarette. Now what? Now that you stink and feel slightly stoned and your mouth is gross and you've sent your blood pressure all over the map, now what? You still have all the stuff you had before you smoked. You still have the little insatiable, grasping claws at right about the solar plexus. Might as well open the refridgerator door, stare, and close it again; it's much better for your body. It's the claws you have to deal with. " (This is in the 2nd person because it's a dialogue with myself. Not YOU you.)
I figure the only way to stop the claws is to cry out 40 years of repressed tears. What tears? Could be anything that's stuck in my cells; doesn't have to be the major events. Just the daily pains and humilliations of being a tiny human in the possession of giants (growing up). Still, I can think of a few whoppers. Love you, DK OXOX
