quit smoking...

Every time he is determined to start another life, to take it from the beginning, not to drink, not to smoke, to make something useful with his time. He aspires to a new life. Nothing wrong until here. I even encouraged him in the beginning. But soon I realized that he found out that the desire of regenerating, suits him, as well as long hair suits to others. When I was asking him what he was doing, he was answering me immediately:
How what am I doing? I am staring a new life…
He begins and again begins a new life, he is always regenerating he is always willing of progress and change. He wants a home, he wants vitamins, he wants a true love, he wants action, he wants REVOLUTION!!
"But from tomorrow!" you hear him always saying. And he lights another cigarette. "The last one", he says. That's why the cigarette has such a pleasant taste; it is always the last one. Why not to smoke if he knows that he can whenever quit smoking? He has so much will, that he doesn't even use it and he is convinced by this thing.
I smoke with pleasure. I tried to quit smoking, I started to analyze myself, to wonder for which reason I smoke, etc.
I understood that smoking is a habit, and, going forward with the analysis, I also declared that "any habit is a vice". I have the feeling of the need to rise to abstraction. Pleased by this conclusion, I lighted a cigarette.
It's curious, but during adolescence I had the impression that for me this vice is the expression of liberty and power, Wrong!
We analyze, we examine ourselves and in this way the analysis becomes a pleasure, just like smoking, the analysis is transforming into a habit, just like smoking, into something dead and mechanical.
Those few things that I understood, or which I think that I understood, were those that I lived with intensity; once I lived them, I haven't felt the need of analyzing them. The understanding was the living itself of the fact. The fact cannot exist separately, independently and the second day in the morning, its understanding. The intensity of living was one and the same with its understanding. That's why I can realize a little how hard and miraculous is to live a thing and how frivolous and meaningless is to lost yourself into analyses, no matter how subtle they would be. (Warning to the amateurs- she knows about whom I am talking to)
And it is almost comic to see how some people try desperately to understand things that in exchange they haven't lived. (Warning to the amateurs- she knows about whom I am talking to)
Coming back to smoking, to my simple and human desire of quitting smoking, at least from health reasons, if not from other philosophical reasons, I realized that I am not accomplishing a whatever big deal with my keen introspections. So that, I had the common sense to drop the self-examination and I understood then that my desire of self-introspection wasn't something else but my will of smoking another cigarette.
The incapacity of giving up smoking glides like a black shadow on my entire existence.
By the way, don't you have perhaps a cigarette?