Quit smoking

  It’s been time for me to quit smoking: 272 days. I thought I was getting used to it slowly now, and my hunger and thirst were gradually receding, and I no longer felt restless, as if a certain part of my limb had been amputated. But in fact it is not. The fact is: I never feel empty for a moment; I never feel as if I have been stripped of my complete self. It’s just that I am used to this feeling now, nothing more. More precisely, I have accepted this painful reality. I will never smoke again, forever.
  That being said, deep in my heart, I haven’t completely given up the craving for smoke. It’s like a kind of pipe dream. If I say that they are the most private, scariest, and even daydreams that we all want to hide from ourselves… Can you understand? In any case, in my daydream, no matter what I want to do at that time, watching the dream movie slowly approaching climax, I will feel as happy as lighting a cigarette.
  This is the importance of cigarettes in my life: it makes happiness and pain, hope and frustration, joy and sorrow, the present and the future come slowly, and find a new path in each of these opposing frameworks. And shortcuts. When this possibility no longer exists, people will feel as if they are naked. At a loss and helpless.
  Once, when I was in a taxi, the driver kept smoking, the cabin was filled with heavy smoke, and I couldn’t help taking a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry!” the man said, and then opened the car window. “No,” I said, “close it, I have quit smoking.” I can keep myself from craving for a long time, but once I think about it, it must be the deepest desire in my heart. This reminds me of the forgotten self, the me who is always imprisoned by medicines, artificial foods, and health warnings. I want to be another person, the former Orhan, the former smoker, and the former demon conqueror. Recalling the past, recalling the past self, the question is not whether I want to light a cigarette immediately. In fact, the desire for chemical experience in the past has long since ceased to exist. I just miss the me in the past, like a brave friend or a handsome face. All I long for is to be who I was. I always feel as if I have been forced to wear the clothes chosen by others, making me the kind of person I hate. If I smoke again, I will have a strong feeling about the night again, and even feel the fear I had in the past.
  I long to go back to the me who was in the past. I remembered that in the past, I had many hazy experiences of eternity and immortality. In the past, time was still, as if motionless. When I was smoking, I sometimes reached a certain extreme state of happiness, and sometimes felt an infinitely strong despair, as if I felt that any state was immutable. If I smoke a cigarette comfortably, the world will exist in an orderly manner.
  Then I became afraid of death. People who smoke can die at any time; all newspapers emphasize this point of view. So in order to live, I had to give up the smoking me and become another person. I succeeded in doing this. Now, that abandoned self is joining hands with the devil, trying to summon me back to those days when time was stagnant and far away from death. His call will no longer scare me. Because, as you have seen, if you can have fun in it, writing can surpass all sorrows.