101 Here's What Happens When You Throw Away (Not "Lose") Your Quit from BaldGuy66 circa 2004 You get this tingle in your belly as you go to buy that pack. It's uncomfortable ... you haven't done this in a month. You try to name your brand, but the words halt in your mouth and are unfamiliar to you. Your JunkieSelf is doing the talking, and the part of you that has lived on QuitNet for the last month is struggling to take control, but can't. Your QuitSelf looks on as money, smokes & matches change hands over the counter. Your QuitSelf won't pony up for a lighter, as this is a temporary situation. Your JunkieSelf maintains that the deed is done now, and there's no going back. Your feet seem to command themselves as you hightail it to the nearest "safe" place to smoke ... usually someplace outdoors, but maybe in the garage, or in a room that nobody else uses, preferably with a door that locks. "Slipping" is a solitary function. Cellophane and foil wrap fall away, revealing the clean white filters all in a row, waiting to be harvested for your smoking pleasure. It's hard to pull the first one from the pack; it seems to be stuck in there somehow, and you have to dig your nails into the filter to get it out. The filter is soft and pliant, and the cigarette feels kinda weird in your hand. Like an artifact from a foreign nation, or a time capsule. It may take a couple of tries to get a match lit: your hands are shaking. You're like a kid with a pack stolen from Mom & Dad. You hope no one can see how inept you are; you used to look so cool doing this. Finally, you get one lit, and get the cigarette up to your lips and take that first, sweet drag: But what's this? This can't be your brand, or they must be stale! This tastes nothing like your friend the cigarette! More like burnt dog crap! Better have another drag: Still tastes like ****, and your throat is burning. You can feel how dry and burnt the air is around you. You can feel the second-hand smoke coating the skin on your face, and inside your nose. But you press on! Smoking was your friend, your standby, your "plus one". Your cigarettes were always there for you, in every situation ... all you had to do was find a place away from everyone else, where they wouldn't see you, or wouldn't be offended by you. This is NOT working out at all. Choices: 1. Throw the pack away -- What a waste of perfectly good smokes. Not to mention the money. You bought 'em, better finish 'em off. You'll get used to the stink and everything, I promise. 2. Just throw the pack away. No arguments. Remember what this felt like, and a year or so later, when someone you know is about to slip, tell them ALL ABOUT IT. BaldGuy Who very rarely posts anything even remotely serious