A dear friend recently confided in me his decision to finally quit his long battle with cigarette addiction. His health had begun to suffer, and that became the turning point that pushed him to let go of his vices. I’ve been a witness to the struggles, setbacks, and small victories he endured along this difficult journey toward a cigarette-free life.
I could feel his longing to be free—free from the invisible prison that had kept him captive for years. When he spoke about how cigarettes consumed his very being—draining his health, spirit, and joy—I believed every word. He admitted how that small stick, so deceptively simple, had enslaved him for most of his life. I never forced him to stop; I only reminded him of the dangers, knowing that pushing too hard might create conflict. After all, we all hold the power of choice: to stay or to walk away, to cling or to let go.
Recently, he chose freedom. He decided, with clarity and conviction, to give up smoking completely. He knows some will laugh at his resolve, question his sincerity, or even dismiss his confession as a joke. But he no longer fears judgment. He is ready—ready to step into a new chapter, to reclaim his health, and to prove that even the deepest chains can be broken.
I started smoking back in high school—just out of curiosity. What began as a single puff quickly grew into a habit, and before I knew it, it became an addiction. My mind turned into a prisoner, chained to the need for cigarettes. From sunrise to midnight, smoking dictated the rhythm of my day. Once you light that first stick, it feels as though the cigarette takes control of you.
Stress consumed me during college—love, heartbreaks, endless projects, thesis deadlines. And each time, smoking became my escape. After graduation, life hit me even harder. Problems piled up, depression swallowed me, and both alcohol and cigarettes became my constant companions. I didn’t care what these vices were doing to my body back then. A pack a day—sometimes more—was nothing. Cigarettes became part of everything I did: before and after meals, with coffee, before a bath, even while sitting on the toilet. I needed that hourly dose of nicotine like it was candy.
But one morning, something shifted. I woke up and told myself: I don’t want this anymore. I’m not getting younger. I don’t want to waste the rest of my life living like this—waking up one day only to realize my health is gone. Already, I get breathless after walking just a few blocks. Sometimes, I have to stop halfway up the stairs to catch my breath. These are warning signs. And I don’t want to wait until it’s too late.
I’ll say it plainly: I am an addict. I’ve been a cigarette addict for many years. And yes, I know some people will criticize me. Some will laugh, ridicule me, or dismiss this as a joke. But I don’t care. Because today, I choose to change.
It’s been a month since I quit smoking. The struggle is real—so real that there are moments I want to give up. But hell no. I’ve come this far, and I won’t go back.
To my friends reading this: don’t laugh. Don’t question my reasons. Instead, encourage me. Remind me that this fight is worth it. Because every word of support matters more than you know.
"When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at, change."
