Not a resolution...

...but a promise. And one I must keep.

Terry passed through my office a couple minutes ago, and on his way through, he spied my smokes sitting in their customary spot.

T: I thought you quit smoking.

A: Yeah, I did, but as you see, it didn't last long.

T: Well, it's a new year...

And he's right, it is indeed a new year.

You see, since October, when I decided to quit for Evan, I've quit and restarted smoking a good four times. Why? Cause I'm weak, life sucks and I appear to be in a perpetual state of unhappiness that just does not want to budge. But, just this weekend, my Cameron confided in me that he's afraid I'm going to get sick from smoking, and that I'm causing him that kind of worry over something so unnecessary broke my heart.

So I made him a promise and I intend to keep it. I will quit smoking this year (hell, I'm aiming for this week) and I will be strong enough not to restart.

There, I've said it, now I just have to do it. Wish me luck, I'm probably gonna need it.