start again damn it come on

You piece of shit.
You got one out and let it slip. Story of your life, right? I've proven that I can do it, therefore I don't need to do it. Or rather, 'what's the harm in letting it wait?'

I'm a notorious dish horder. Not as in, I go to op-shops and find vintage plates to add to a collection, but as in I will grab mysef something to eat, most often retreat to my room, scoff it down and put the plate somewhere next to me while I watch or listen to something. Then when I'm ready to get back up, I'll put the plate in the pile. I could take it back out and wash it, but I don't. That's too much effort. Or possibly, my subconcious reasoning is along the lines of 'I know it's okay if I leave it there, so why do it now?'

Damn. Now I want a cigarette. Sorry, I got distracted.
Do you smoke? I smoke. I started when I was 18. At first I bought them for my cash-inclined friends, as I was the one who had a job at that point. Vogues, I remember. They offered me one and I snubbed my nose at them. I didn't smoke. I was a very careful drinker. Drugs were my worst nightmare, something out of a horror film. I was against tattoos and piercings too, obviously. Cut to 10 years later, and the only thing I still haven't experienced is piercings. Because my body type does not lend itself to piercings.
After a while of buying cigarettes for people (and slowly stepping down from my high horse), I gave in to the mighty monster of peer pressure and had one.It wasn't bad, all things considered. Nowhere near as bad as I had built it up to be. And THEN I was told I was smoking wrong. I was taught the dragon breath trick to make sure it had reached my lungs. If it could come out of my nostrils, I was doing it right. So I was given another one to practice. It was bad. I got the head spins. Felt real sick afterwards too. Made no sense to me why people did that to themselves. So I abandoned it before I could finish.
A few weeks later I would have an actual cigarette. No offense to Vogue smokers, but it's sort of... how to put this kindly? Weak. Misleading. They're the next step up from those fad sticks that kids used to treat like actual smokes. Don't get me wrong, they were great and classy when actual packaging was a thing and good training wheels for real cigarettes. But they suck. Sorry. Anyway, first real cigarette knocked the wind out of me. Made me mute, sent me to the ground. Stomach weak, Moms spagetti.
And yet here I am ten years later staring at a pack of... fuck what are they called? I know they're reds. They're not Benson and Hedges, why do I keep wanting to say that? Not Dunhill. That was the first pack of smokes I bought though. Had them hidden away for months. Good times.
Oh god, come on man. You're embarrassing yourself. I buy them all the time. Always do a little rehersal before I go up to the counter too. "Hi, could I grab a pack of Bond Street Red 30's?" Oh shit, woah, there we go. Bond Street. That's what it was. It used to be significatly cheaper than Marlboro, and it still is but there was once upon a time where the thought of paying $1 per smoke was insulting. Now it's a bargain.
Wierdly though, in ten years of smoking, I think I must be the only person I know that's never tried quitting. This is where the joke goes that 'quitting isn't in my nature'. And that's partly true. I don't usually give up on things. I just sit with the knowledge that I probably could, so what's the rush? Why do it now when there is always later?
... You piece of shit.