Have you ever told your kids you quit, relapsed and then lied to them? Only to be caught with a lit nicotine stick that you couldn't lie your way out of?
Have you ever offered smokes to people you knew were trying to quit because if they smoked, too, you wouldn't feel like the only idiot?
Have you ever had to bundle up in coat, boots, hat, mittens and even wrap a blanket around your legs for warmth to smoke in the -35 (celsius) garage? In the middle of watching a movie with your spouse who had to wait while you bundled up, added some nails to your coffin and unbundled, only to cuddle up smelling like stale smoke?
Many times I've gone hunting for the longest butt, dumping out the beer bottle I'd been using for an ashtry, trying to find the least beer-soggy butt to smoke.
I did all those things because I'm an addict. Not someone with a nasty little habit.
An addict.