Etch Me a Nonsmoker, Sketch Me Flawed

Sitting here on my couch, trying to be with myself and find something to distract me from this self all at the same time. I want a cigarette. It’s been days, but I still want one. I feel ashamed that I was a smoker. Ashamed that I let myself do it for so long, and know that this act of resisting the urge is self-love. Ashamed because I have a little brother who knows I smoked. Friends who asked me to stop over and over again before I did.

I put it here because again, it’s something I don't want to talk about, but need to bring it outside this self tonight. How many people call me to talk about their days, trials and stresses? I appreciate it when people in my life present themselves imperfect and flawed...its real. I am honored by the realness, honored to be with them. Why am I still at the place that putting myself out there all flawed and fragile is too human an experience? What a beautiful thing this electronic page. I am putting myself out there for the world and not, all at the same time. How many people create a mask of what they want to be on these pages? How many think this is actually who they are?

I am 29-years-old and know that who I am is an etch-a-sketch that changes when I get bumped, dropped or feel the need to add new lines. It’s the scariest lesson to learn and one most people won't do until they are left on their own by circumstance - the lesson being that who we are is more about the process of self-connection than anything we try to define ourselves with. I guess I am privileged to have a chance now to be introduced to this than years down the road...maybe. This perspective does make the road ahead both scarier and less scary all at the same time. Scarier because my invincibility is waning into something more tangent, flawed human, and real...vulnerable. I don't like this me seen, but want to now. Scarier because I know I'm gonna be bumped, dropped, and etched anew many more times over. Less scary because it’s relieving to know I don't have to be perfect and know it all now. That distance is the name of the game and I have come along way already.

I still want that cigarette and know it’s gonna take longer than a week to make that feeling wane longer than moments or hours. I want the long drag, the hold and release. Still choosing not to. Still wanting what I can't have. Still choosing me first and foremost. Still not smoking.