"The cigarette and me"

This is the second time I have gone through withdrawal. Addiction is a terrible thing for many reasons, but You don't know how bad you have it until you don't have it.  I've been a smoker for  roughly four years now.  It started in late November. I remember moving back home. I was stressed and sick. I was a neurotic mess. I had lost most of my friends by this point and was jobless. I would converse with my mother a lot during this time. Every now and then I would "bum" a smoke from her pack. I remember the first couple of times I would try to kill the cigarette in the ashtray. I would do a sloppy job at it that after a few minutes there was still smoke coming from the ashtray. My mother would call me out on it all the time.  My first brand of cigarette was Marlboro Smooth.  Every time I would pull into one for the first time I was delighted with the taste of it. It was not so much minty, but it was a refreshing and uniquely tasting cigarette. I was in love with the brand for a few months. When I began interning on Wall Street, I would sneak away from the office once an hour to have a cigarette. It  was nice being that free.  I would grab my coat and head toward the elevator. I was on the eighth floor I believe and on the way down I was surrounded by important people who were going downstairs to do the same thing I was. I was a part of something I felt. I was an adult. Each time the prices were to increase I would vow to quit. Every time the prices went up, I remained a smoker. Shortly after my stay on Wall Street I started to pursue other opportunities that would be much better suited for me and my talents. I decided to get back into sales. I got offered a job that I knew very little about and ended up becoming a door to door salesman for a day. I was stressed out once more. I was jobless and could no longer depend on my parents to support me.  I needed to work.  I found work in a coffee shop. The first few months were tough for me. I never pictured myself in the food industry and was overwhelmed by the job, my co-workers and the customers. It was a new world for me and I felt silly. I thought to myself often that I was wearing a suit and tie just a few months prior and now I'm making coffee and scrubbing toilets. I had already made a bond with the tobacco by this point and there was no way I was going to break it.  Overtime things at home became progressively worse. My father going AWOL and my mother losing her grip on things. The tension that surrounded me made me smoke even more so. I started feeling my health decline within the first year and a half. I was depressed, stressed, and angry. I did not understand why life had taken this unnecessary turn, but it had and here I was in the middle of it.  Eventually we moved. I went from having my own room to escape to, to being 23 and sleeping in the living room. There was a rule which was no smoking in the apartment. That rule was easily dismissed. It was there where I decided it was time to quit the habit.  And i did. I quit for a few days. The stress didn't go away. I began smoking again. I have tried to quit countless times while being there, but to no avail. I finally moved out.  I began taking on more of my own personal responsibility.  i started to gain my own independence.  I go now three days without a cigarette.  I am stronger now than I was when I first started with the habit. I'm ready to move on.