It was in the spur of the moment.
I was having a coffee with my flatmate and I turned around and said:
"That's it, I quit smoking. I'm tired of coughing, I'm fed up of paying through the nose for a pack of cigarettes, I'm ashamed of how my clothes smell and I'm just going to quit!"
She looked at me with disbelief at first, but then she turned around and said:
"Someone will be very proud of you and he is smiling right now" and she showed me a picture of my father. I welled up. My father was a heavy smoker and he died of lung cancer when he was 39 years old. MY AGE! I've never met him and I feel terrible about that. So, this one's for him.
I went to Boots and bought 2 boxes of patches. I vanished all ashtrays, lighters, matches and threw away the rubbish with the last smelly ashes. I am never going to the smokers room at work again and I am going to give my last pack to a friend of mine.
I know I'm going to make it, because the good thing with me is that for seven weeks a year when my mother is around, I don't smoke at all. She doesn't know. She thinks I'm an anti-smoker. She'd die. But thanks to that little white lie, I will be able to pretend I never smoked, which will help me quit.
I don't consider myself an addict, because of the above reason.
Although I like smoking, I can live without it.
After 16 years, on the 16th of November I smoked my last cigarette.