As any good cigarette addict, I’ve tried to quit smoking several times and never lasted more than a few weeks. Now, something has happened that made me get my strength together and do it for real. My grandmother was diagnosed with lung cancer. So, this is day one.
For some reason I can’t stop thinking about making brownies and eating carbs in general. It’s like no other food will satisfy my craving instincts. I also feel something in my diaphragm area, some kind of knot; the kind of thing you get when you’re feeling anxious. Maybe I am indeed anxious and it’s like I need to worry about something but I don’t know what it is that I need to worry about. Does it sound crazy?
In the morning I was editing a script my husband and I have been working on for more than two years now. I was finishing revising the third act when the power went off. Mother fucker, I hadn’t saved the file! First I tried to keep it cool, but when my husband tried to make me feel better. It worked otherwise, I snapped. It was as if my anger was the only way to let go all my anxiety. Maybe I should be restrained from speaking to people until it gets better. I should go live deep into the jungle, in a cave, preferably. I could go hunting and set the inner beast free. To entertain myself, I could paint on the cave’s walls to practice my finger painting skills. At night I would lay on the ground, looking at the stars, thinking how a cigarette would make that moment just perfect. Please tell me it gets better.