To describe the last three weeks would take weeks, so that's not what I'm going to do today. Today I have an interesting observation and am looking for some perspective on it. So today I woke up in a near panic about my finances, not a huge deal, I do that at least once a month or so. But I turn over and I hug my girlfriend, looking for just a little bit of comfort. She hugs me back and I go off and shower. But when I get back from my shower, I have a mask on. It's like I show a bit of true vulnerability and then I have to compensate for it by acting ultra happy and optimistic about the day, even I knew it was fake and usually I'm completely unaware when I put on my masks. Alas, I am now at 34 hours without a cigarette, I always told myself that I would never quit for a girl, but now here I am. It's like giving up my old best friend so my new best friend will be happy. I miss cigarettes, they were always there for me. From my most shining accomplishments (graduating Job Corps and being promoted to senior, and meeting A) to my darkest hours, from boredom to frustration to sadness and madness, they were always there for me when I had to put the wool over my eyes and delude myself. Now they're just gone. It's not that I miss the nicotine part, I miss having something to do with my hands when I'm nervous. I miss the feeling of my lungs tightening up on that first drag of the morning.