I look around me, and everywhere my eyes land I see people worse off than me. People with illnesses that could (and likely eventually will) kill them. And I feel about this *holds thumb and forefinger 1cm apart* big.
Here I am, whinging about the petty little irritations in my life, these tiny little things that mean fuck-all, really, and there *they* are, suffering and struggling cheerfully.
However, everyone needs a place to vent, and this is mine. So I *will* whine that I’m not even 24 hours without a cigarette, and i’ve had the most fucking awful night’s sleep i’ve had in a long time (didn’t get to sleep till gone 12:30, then woke up every hour with my mind filled with thoughts of cigarettes), and I now have to face a day at work without them, for the first time ever. And I have to try and work breaks in that do not revolve around nicotine.

And underlying it all, I’m fucking angry that I have to do this when it’s not really my choice. Well, yes – I *could* carry on indulging in the pleasure that cigarettes bring me (and make no mistake – I *do* get a lot of pleasure from them), and endure more pain and eventually lose my teeth. Or I can be a *spits* fucking grown-up about it.
Excuse me, I feel another tantrum coming on…