Self-aware. Self conscious. Self induced.

Cold Turkey

Let me tell you how this is going to be.

Pick your poison. Coffee? Coca-Cola? Cigarettes? Some shade of alcohol? I know. Ice cream. Orbit gum, mint-mojito flavor. Whatever. Pick it. What do want every day, most days? Ring-Dings?

Got it? I can wait.


You can’t have it any more.

You’re done. Which of course means that you want it a lot. A lot more than a lot, because the fact that you can’t have it means that it’s hard not to think about it. And now your little addiction is starting to take up precious mental space, because it’s hard for you to think about anything else. I mean, I really like coffee. I really, really like coffee, and I look forward to my one-to-two cups a day with sick anticipation. But I can’t have any. And now there’s a headache that’s making me nauseous, and just a little caffeine would make it go away, but nope, no coffee.

Remember, I didn’t quit in this scenario. I can’t. It’s not available to me.

And after a while the headaches go away, and I stop thinking about coffee every hour, then I stop thinking about it every day, then occasionally a whole week goes by without wishing for the taste and the smell. But the dull resentment that is the blunted reminder of the sharp pain of coffee being taken away from me is still there. Anger shifts to bitterness, and not the good coffee kind, and it fades to a nagging GRIM. Because I really, really liked coffee.

That’s what it’s going to be like for me when Anthony dies. And that’s not even the worst of it. The worst part of living – right then – is that nothing slows down. The world keeps turning, like we weren’t even here.


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