12-01-03 - 5:15 p.m.
When I thought about quitting smoking, I had a utopian vision of a smoke free Thanksgiving, our whole family bonding over the pumpkin pie. In the past, it hasn't been that physically painful to quit -- just psychologically impossible. This time my nerves were on fire. My sister was obviously also quitting smoking, as I am her hookup. I wanted to rip her face off. I usually let things slide off my back, but now I am beyond sick and tired. Some pains go back years. I am sick of her calling me a slut and a whore. I'm sick of being psychoanalyzed. I'm sick of being guilted about not spending enough time with her. All I wanted to do was escape. I'm sick of her tattling. I'm sick of having no secrets. My Dad was so stressed out he kept smoking cigars again and again. My Mom went sick with pain. We all cried. It was horrible, and surprise of the year, I am smoking again. I feel like walking off a bridge. Yet I know now that escape fantasies are just fantasies. I haven't really been truly suicidal in weeks, I just think to myself a little nap from life would be nice. Everyone yelled. Dicey threw things. She pulled my hair. What a week! I am seeing Bat tonight and I want to get so drunk I don't remember my name.
