It’s the lizard brain, the addicted one.
The limbic system.
The Id of instantly demanding instant gratification.
It is the child in us.
(though mine seems a tad bit mature for her age just by the value of her language)
Please excuse/ignore my lizard brain. I do my best to try to.
Her: Hey. You’re fixin’ to get off work. You know. You could stop by the gas station.
(she sounds fun. she knows I want to celebrate a moment. I did a job and they still want me to come back tomorrow, and, hey. she’s my best friend. we like to party and cigarettes have forever been part of our party. I mean for the longest time.)
Me: Hey. A pack a cigarettes.
Just me and you.
We could do it.
Her: Yep. Nobody else has to know. It’s just us.
(She is not my Mom. She is not Kim. She is not Slater. She is not Rick. She is not you. She doesn’t really like me, I think. Or maybe she’ll miss me as a friend one day soon. Or just forget me. That’s the thing I hope.)
Me: I can’t. I won’t stop.
Her: Yes, you can. Just one a day. Every night we’ll sit out on the porch.
(It’s my choice)
Today I am grateful for the strength it took to drive past the gas station without stopping. If I did it today I can definitely do it tomorrow.