I do not think it

Waking up every night, sleeping late, and these horrible wonderful dreams have all left me so stressed that I did something fun for once foolish. I knew I should have thrown away those cigarettes when I had half a mind to

I didn’t write ‘wonderful’. They’re nightmares. I can’t sleep, I keep seeing that man’s face as he died. I don’t write some of these things, STOP DOING THAT.

It isn’t me, I swear, it isn’t me. It wasn’t fun, I nearly coughed up a lung, and felt terrible and sick all day afterwards. Sarah noticed the smell clinging to me when the kids got home, but she didn’t say anything. I could tell, though, she was looking at me with so much disgust, and...well, curiosity. I don’t want to inspire any bad behavior.

What if she starts emulating me? It’d probably be better if she just killed herself instead and saved me the heartache of watching her wither and die. It would be just like her to ignore everything I do, except for that.

No I didn’t write that. I didn’t, I swear. I would never say that about my own child. I only think it.

I DO NOT THINK IT.

What’s happening to me? This isn’t me.