Counting the Hours In Hell

As you can see by the counter to the right, it's been some time since I had a smoke. I still haven't touched a single solitary cigarette. I haven't touched a drop of booze either. Doing alright so far, if I say so myself. It's really hard when my brother sits down next to me on the couch with a lit cigarette in his hand. I can smell it, and although it's not a particularly pleasant smell, it makes the craving worse. My alergies are going crazy now as well. Normally, my nasal passages are so coated with tar and ash that the allergens can't get through. Now that I'm not pumping my system full of smoke regularly, the protective coating of crap has melted away. So, I sneeze. And my eyes water. Fun.

I had thought that I warned people to stay away from me. I remember specifially mentioning that I was planning to quit smoking and to quit drinking and that I likely wasn't going to be in the best possible mood. People never listen. And so they're going to piss me off and I'm going to snap and somehow it will all be my fault. Bastards. Last night I was rummaging around in my boxes, trying to find my Sublime CD and I was cussing and swearing like I had a bad case of Turrets (I know that's probably not the correct spelling). My dad just had to come down and ask what I was doing. Let me ask this: if you saw a wild wolverine that was showing signs of rabies infection, would you go up to it and ask it questions? I should hope not.

I was trying to fix my brother's computer too, and it was really, really, REALLY trying my ability to control myself. I was SO close to putting my fist through that fucking monitor. I wanted to grab the damn disc tray and rip it out of the damn housing and stomp on it until it was unrecognizable. Grrrr!!!! How do I manage to keep my temper?? Years and years of suppression.