quitting smoking is exactly the same as breaking up with a loved one. the first few days are spent in the initial shock phase where you seem to think you’re totally fine and life has a fresh new outlook and this is going to be so great for you, you just know it—smiling through the tears, crying through the candy-eating. but then something happens and you see a book you two loved or a coffee shop you made out in or a courtyard you used to chainsmoke alone for hours in and suddenly everything turns black. you’re sad and lost. what am i supposed to do now? like, this is cool and all but are you really telling me we’re through forever because i never meant to picture the rest of my life without you. and then you begin to bargain with yourself—well if we just went out for coffee or if you know, i just had one. but then you hate yourself already for giving in. but then it’s 2am and you’re staring at you phone and/or wallet waiting for something to happen. waiting for this endless longing to pass. there are fillers, yes, things to pass the time. you can drunkenly make out with a stranger or eat five bags of candy but it will only make you feel worse and won’t fill the void you’re aching for. so what do you do? you throw yourself into your work and hope you don’t get too fat along the way. i guess.