Sayang.

I took a stick but didn't even manage to finish it. I could, and I would, but I chose not to. The mere fact that I lit it and took a puff meant I was still vulnerable. Vulnerable enough that I needed not much prodding to disregard the several weeks of nicotine free state that I've decided to be in. Yes, the feeling of guilt creeped through me the moment I placed it between my lips and clicked on the lighter. I could have stopped then and there, but no, I chose to push through the lighting and took a first, second, third, and fourth puff. As I exhaled the last draft I took, I was enveloped in a state of what I thought of was haze, but I now know that it was my guilt and probably my conscience that stirred me up and made me decide to stop.

"It's been eighteen days since I had my last puff; 6 weeks since my last full stick."

Words I should have written here, if I didn't took one stick earlier.

It's been five hours since my last puff; 6 weeks since my last full stick.

I lost my streak. I was tempted. I gave in. I am vulnerable. I am weak. I will try and fight it off.

Again.