  It's good to know that I have the emotional fortitude of a new-born kitten. After just a sad four days, I collapsed and bought some cigarettes. I could get the chemicals via the patch, but nothing can replace the habit - my crutch. To say that I have an addictive personality is somewhat like saying "the sky is blue", or "the force due to gravity near Earth's surface is -9.8 m/s^2" ... it's a constant, a given for any word problem I happen to be involved in. It's going to take much more than a sticky little circle of time-release nicotine to escape from this passively aggressive addiction. And of course, they tell you all of that in those convenient little pamphlets that the patches come with - it's all about "behavior modification", or some shit. I don't need modification , I need a fucking lobotomy. Well, really, I know exactly what I need to beat this, but I'm coming up way short on that right now.
And there isn't any need for me to elaborate exactly on what "that" is - I could look back on this in a decade and know exactly what I mean by "that". Hopefully in that much time, if I should happen to be looking back on this by some incredible means of preservation that I haven't the tenacity or desire to pursue, I won't be lacking for "that". Hopefully, there's a decade in front of me that includes a lot of things that come up absent right now from recent roll calls.
At least (I guess) I'm aware enough now to know just what is missing. Maybe that's enough. I can't help but feel like luck has way too much influence when it comes to all of this. Or, did I use the wrong word - is it luck, or is it destiny? Do I really believe in that kind of New York Times best sellers list shit? 
